


Parasomnia

by paradoxmachine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Dinosaurs, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anxiety, Bisexuality, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Death, Demisexuality, Depression, Dissociation, Dream Bubbles, F/F, F/M, Gen, Grey-Asexuality, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Meteorstuck, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quadrant Confusion, Recovery, Retcon Timeline, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Social Anxiety, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff - Freeform, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, non-quadromantic Karkat, pansexuality, sleep paralysis, the tag pile doesn't stop from getting taller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 57,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxmachine/pseuds/paradoxmachine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave had always assumed that at the very least, he'd have the sanctuary of his own mind. Turned out, even the gates to that were shaky at best.<br/>[Your friendly neighborhood post-retcon Meteorstuck, DaveKat-centric chapterfic, with a bit of a twist. Pan-Quadrant romance and dream bubble adventures featuring some standard AU settings.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Tags will be updated with each chapter as, for reasons that will become clear, more characters and other things are introduced. This thing's gonna be huge, it's gonna be wild, I hope you're half as excited as I am. Consider this my love letter to fandom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Forgive me for the bait and switch prologue. Give it until the first chapter before you judge.)

First bell was at 7:50, and as usual, Dave ignored it. He was leaning against a locker with his headphones on, bobbing his head in time to the newest ill beat he’d worked out the night before. _Man, where is he_ , he thought. This wasn’t like him. John Egbert, bless his heart, was the most perfectly punctual student he’d ever met. It would’ve been annoying if it weren’t so hopelessly endearing. Good old reliable John. Reliably _asinine_ , didn’t he realize they had some very important game plans to go over before first period?

Dave glanced up at the clock on the wall- only someone must have moved it, because it wasn’t there. That was weird, but whatever. He reached for his phone instead.  
“Dave!!” Dave looked up just in time to see Egbert nearly trip and eat shit as he plunged up the stairs, and then miraculously caught himself and carried on running like it was nothing.  
“Damn, kid, be cool,” Dave said, quirking an eyebrow. He tipped his headphones down onto his neck and gestured loosely with one hand for John to join him by the lockers.  
“Sorry I’m late!” John said, plopping against the wall next to him with a metallic clang. “My dad’s car broke down, can you believe it? I had to hitch a ride with the weird kid down the block.”

“Killer,” said Dave sympathetically. “No big deal, but you missed first bell.”  
“Gosh damn,” John said, and then added in a lower, conspiratorial voice, “So?”  
“So,” Dave repeated.  
“So are you going to ask her, then? Today?”  
Dave sighed, and shook his head. He kept shaking it, not as an answer, but as a _statement_.  
“I dunno man, I’ve just gotta wait for the right moment, you know?”  
“Screw that,” said John. “She’s gonna say yes, you’ve just got to ask her!”  
“Nah, man,” Dave insisted. “Bro, man, no, listen. Trust me on this. It’s all about the presentation.”  
“Presentation shmesintation! Ask her!”

“Ask who, what?” Jade said, appearing suddenly on his other side.  
“Ask silly girls with silly glasses to mind their own business,” Dave said, without missing a beat. John elbowed him sharply in the ribs.  
“That’s funny,” said Jade. “Anyway, silly glasses girl was just wondering if you guys were planning on going to the dance?”  
“ _Dance_ ,” Dave scoffed. “Babe, Striders don’t _do_ dances. They’re not my style, ya dig?”  
“Ohhh,” said Jade, sounding disappointed. “I was kinda hoping you might go with me.”  
“What,” said Dave.  
“You know,” Jade said, “as friends.”  
Dave’s indifferent frown imperceptibly deepened.  
“…Eh,” he said. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll make an appearance.”

“Well, you should,” Jade said, grinning at him. “It’ll be fun. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. I have biology on the other side of B wing, and Mrs. Fartbanger’ll _kill_ me if I’m late again.”  
“Bye, Jade!” John called cheerily after her. He waited until she rounded the corner, and then elbowed Dave again. “So that went well.”  
“Shut up,” said Dave.  
“Meet you by the stairs for lunch?” He raised a reconciliatory fist, which Dave met with a bump and a flourish.  
“…Smell you later, Egboy.”

 

\---

 

Dave sat on the stairs with his bag lunch thinking, something weird was going on. He couldn’t really place what it was, just that something seemed out of place. Something was missing, or something was here that wasn’t supposed to be, and… There was definitely something strange about that boy.

-What boy?

Dave blinked blearily and raised a hand to his head. He could have sworn there was…

Whatever. He nibbled idly at his sandwich, and waited for John.

 

\---

 

Class seemed to fly by right up to sixth period. Sixth period was great, not only because it was the last class of the day, or because he shared it with Jade, but because it was _Graphic Design_. Hell to the yeah, now there was a class that begged for his talent. He was also low-key in bro-love with his teacher, a middle-aged guy who looked strikingly exactly like Bob Ross. Including the fact that he was named ‘Mr. Ross,’ and didn’t object when Dave fondly referred to him as Bob.

Dave settled in behind his assigned computer monitor and stretched his hands. He always got to sixth period early, because he liked to work on little side projects in the down time. Just scribbles, really, but he liked them; he could fart out a comic in five minutes, and have it ready to surprise Jade with the moment she sat down. Dave wiggled the mouse, and then double clicked to open the template he’d been working on the day before.

Wait, that was weird. This wasn’t… Dave narrowed his eyes. The image on his screen was undeniably his style; who could ever forge such unique and inspired imagery? Only, he couldn’t remember drawing it. _No_ , he was certain that he _hadn’t_ drawn it. Something had… gone wrong with the file when he saved it, or something. Could that happen? Could a picture change to another, completely different picture accidentally during a wonky save? Sure, he thought. That was probably it. Anyway it was still funny, and that’s what mattered. He got to work, and shat out another masterpiece with time to spare before finally Jade fell into the chair next to him.

“So, hey,” he said awkwardly, “I was thinking…”  
“Lol,” said Jade. “Well that’s good.”  
Dave cleared his throat, and started again.  
“Baby girl, you know what I think?” he said. He reached for Jade’s hand, clasping it firmly in both of his own. “Pretty girls shouldn’t go to dances with their friends, yanno? Pretty girls should have a fine-ass man to take them to dances, so here’s me, a fine-ass man, asking you, a pretty girl- will you go to the dance with me?”

There was a snort from the back of the room like a dam bursting in a flood. Dave jumped and looked back over his shoulder- and there he was. That boy, again. Dave rose furiously to his feet.

“Oh _shit_ -“ the boy gasped, heaving for breath in between painful cries of laughter. He was clutching his stomach and leaning so far forward in his chair his head was almost resting on the desk. “Fuck, ohhhh, I can’t-“  
“What the hell!” Dave snapped, stomping over to him. “What’s so funny, you piece of shit?”  
“Asssssssss man,” the boy whimpered. There were tears welling up in his big yellow eyes. “You’re killing me, Strider. I can’t _take_ this-“  
He dissolved into another rancorous peal of laughter.  
“Who the _fuck-_ “ Dave grabbed him by the shoulders and spun his chair around to face him.

Grey skin, yellow eyes. Dark hair, with two tiny nubs of orange peeking out. This kid was fucked up, there was no way he was- human-

Dave recognized him. “Karkat?”

It was like two gears had clicked together in his head how painfully fast he suddenly understood. Everyone else in the room had disappeared. So had, he realized with a wave of disappointment, his totally bitchin’ leather jacket. His stomach twisted with confusion and shame, and he felt his face absolutely glowing red.

“For fuck’s sake, Dave,” Karkat wheezed. “You’re dreaming.”


	2. I: Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note here that while a large chunk of the story is set in meteorstuck post-retcon timeline, there will be some departures from canon if ever I feel the need. Mostly they'll be small things, unless they're not. ;)  
> P.S. Important tags updated.

Dave awoke with a start, jumping amid his tangle of blankets and nearly falling out of bed. His head was a haze of weird emotional soup, though the strongest by far was a sickening sense of nostalgia. He had been dreaming, and it had been a good dream, not a nightmare. Those had been a rarity before all this. Funny that it was only after getting murdered repeatedly and going through literal hell that he was able to sleep without fear. Not always- not _usually_ \- but sometimes. And less funny, more fucked all sorts of up, he guessed.

He rubbed his forehead, wincing his eyes closed so tightly that he saw spots. Jade had been there, and John, and that guy who painted sceneries for some reason? And Karkat, only… Dave felt heat rising in his face in a solid sheet. Only John and Jade had been imaginary, like a proper fuckin’ dream in a sane, rational world. Karkat seemed to be- might have been- almost certainly actually was, well, _Karkat_. Whether it was the Karkat from his timeline or a dead one he didn’t know, but either way, how fucked up with that?

Where did he get off thinking he could just waltz right in to his head and… and _spy_ on him during intimate, private moments? Fuck that gay-ass noise, he was filing a complaint to the goddamn horrorterrors. There was no justice in a world where he couldn’t even have an innocent high school sitcom dream without someone bursting in to judge him for it.

Dave flipped over and pulled his pillow over his head. Whatever. What _ever_ , he’d just never, ever, ever bring it up, go on pretending like it had never happened, and get on with the rest of his life. Right?

…Right?

Only, what if it happened again? Dave was fuming thinking about it. In his mind’s eye he saw Karkat passing him in the halls, saw Karkat lurking at the back of classrooms and sitting at opposite tables. Why had he just gone along with it? Had he… had he done this before?  
Dave felt with sickening certainty that he had. How many times? Once or twice? Dozens of times? Looking at it in retrospect, Dave was piecing together an unholy narrative of fixated depravity.

He was going to kill him.

 

\---

 

Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t anyone in the common area when Dave finally managed to haul his ass out of his room. He’d entertained the idea of going back to sleep, but that was a laughable concept even when he didn’t have dream peeping toms to worry about. Once he was up, he was up. Didn’t matter that he’d been asleep for less hours than he had fingers on one hand, or that it was what was functionally six in the morning, meteor standard time. Didn’t matter that he was so tired his body felt like lead, and his brain felt like scrambled eggs.  
Hmm… Scrambled eggs.

Dave sat on the edge of the alchemiter, sorting through the list of ingredient cards they’d managed to scrounge together in their first few months aboard the SS Space Rock. It had started out depressingly sparse, but with a little bit of creative deconstruction thanks to Rose and Rose’s instantaneous stir-craziness, they’d managed to compile a basic kitchen’s worth of both troll and human foods. Rose still liked to complain at the slightest prompting about how much was still missing, (“How does one define the finer points of milk without a cow to produce it?” “Jesus, Rose, just drink the troll milk. It’s basically the same.”) and Dave would grumble along to placate her, but honestly… It was better stocked in the first week than his own house had been at any point in his entire _life_.

They had _eggs_ and that was fucking amazing. So many things you could do with eggs, boil them, fry them, _poach_ them? (He hadn’t tried doing that yet, but it sounded fancy.) And they went with everything and on everything and in everything. How had he spent the first thirteen years of his life thinking Egg McMuffins were as good as it got?

He sat aside the card for eggs, as well as the one for bread and the one for ‘no-it-is-very-much-not-basically-the-same’ milk. He popped them in one at a time, gathered the ingredients in his arms, and then went to the fridge, (“We have to have a fridge, Rose, it’s called ‘frugal living.’ I don’t care if you’re alchemizing everything, _leftovers._ ”) for butter. French toast, he was thinking. That probably wasn’t too hard. They didn’t have any syrup yet, but they did have cinnamon, so that was probably good enough.

“Good morning, Dave,” came a polite voice from the transportalizer.  
“Muhhaugh,” grumbled Dave. He paused, and tried again. “Morning, Kanaya.”

Kanaya smiled and walked past him to the alchemiter. Moments later, the room was flooded by the sticky, savory smell of… whatever it was that Kanaya ate. He’d tried to ask her about it once, just for casual conversation, but had dropped the subject hastily in the face of Rose’s ‘you’re being impertinent, Dave’ glare. Kanaya settled in on the couch with her mug, and unsylladexed a heavy, leather-bound tome onto her lap. Probaby troll porn. Dave was like, 99 percent sure all troll books were troll porn.

Dave popped in a headphone, started some music, and continued to survey the “kitchen” corner for the things he needed. There was the cinnamon, and sure, some powdered sugar would probably be good. He cracked an egg into a bowl, added the milk, and the cinnamon- did that go on after? Oh well- and began whipping it together with a fork. He was just dabbing the bread into the mix when a second troll joined them, brutally loud and cheerful for the hour.

“Daaaaaaaave,” Terezi said, hooking an arm around his shoulders.  
“Morning, Terezi,” Dave said, stiffening.  
“Is it?” said Terezi. “Vriska and I have been at it all night-“  
“Wow,” said Dave.  
“-working on a new campaign. You’ll love it, Dave, trust me. It’s very… you.”  
“I’m gonna be honest,” said Dave. “All of those words you just used were nice, normal, regular words for post-noon Dave, but you’re talking to pre-noon Dave right now and I am. I don’t know where I am. I am like, Season 5 Lost right now.”  
“Our game, Dave! Our game!”  
“…Game?” Dave said apprehensively.

Terezi slid off of him and fiddled with the coffee machine, giggling.

“Don’t worry, Dave. We’re going to have a lot of fun.” Still laughing, she retrieved two mugs brimming with strong smelling coffee, and then slipped away with them back to the transportalizer, vanishing back from whence she came.

Dave rubbed his shoulder, and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He clicked on the burner, placed the pan, and scooped in a healthy glob of butter.

“Good morning, Kanaya, Dave,” Rose said, nodding at both of them on her way to the alchemiter. Kanaya waved without looking up, and Dave grunted, dropping his toast into the pan with a sizzling hiss. Rose debated for only a few seconds before selecting a card to alchemize, and then she joined Kanaya on the couch with an elaborate plate of crepes propped on her knees.

“You know, I’ve already made a card for that,” Rose cooed. “You’re just as welcome to them as anyone else.”  
“Yeah, sure,” Dave said, staring at the pan intently.  
“Then you wouldn’t have to dirty so many dishes,” Rose continued.  
“Mmhm.”  
“Or wait for it to cook.”  
“Yep.”  
Kanaya sipped at her mug. Dishes clinked quietly together as Rose began to pick at her breakfast.  
“Unless… You don’t like my cooking?” Rose said hesitantly.  
“Jesus, Rose, I’ve told you,” Dave said exasperatedly, turning around. “I just _don’t like_ alchemized food.”  
Rose pursed her lips.  
“…Technically,” she said, and Dave readied himself to get Thoroughly Tutled. “It’s still alchemized food, even if you cook it yourself. I assure you, it tastes exactly the same.”

“Roooo _oooose_ ,” Dave groaned, throwing up his hands dramatically. “I’m just tryin’a live my life, Rose. Why you gotta be like this, Rose? I just wanna make some goddamn toast, is that such a crime? Arrenst me offer sir, it was me, I cooked the breakfast.”  
“Calm down,” said Rose, “I just wanted you to know that-“  
“I’m soooooooo calm, Rose,” Dave said, leaning back onto the counter. “I am _chill_ as an arctic tundra- tearin’ your criticism all asunda- ignorin’ yo every social blunda- why you tryin’ ta steal my thunda- it’s no wonda- cuz I’m—“  
He trailed off suddenly as the transportalizer stirred to life once again.  
“— _YOU._ ”

Karkat froze in mid-step and looked up at him, nonplussed, eyes full deer-in-the-headlights.  
“You!” Dave repeated, brandishing an accusatory finger. “Wipe that face off your face, _you know what you did._ ”  
“I was going to give it right back,” Karkat said. “It’s not my fault human manufacturing is so pathetically feeble.”  
“Wh-… Okay, no, we’re gonna come back to that one.” Dave stomped over to the transportalizer to jam his finger in Karkat’s chest. “Bad troll,” he said. “Bad, _bad_ , naughty troll. You don’t wanna have beef with me, guy. My beef ain’t juicy and tender, it’s tough and stringy and you gotta chew it for so long it makes your jaw hurt ‘n’ shit. And even then you’re like, should I really swallow this, or just spit it out?”  
“Um,” said Karkat.  
“I will make you choke on my beef, Karkat,” Dave said ominously. “ _Don’t_ fuck with me. _Stay out of my head **.**_ ”

“Uh, Dave-“ Rose said, at the same time as Kanaya said, “Do you smell that?”  
“Oh, mother _fucker_.” Dave spun around, wrinkling his nose at the sudden acrid stench of burning hopes and dreams. “Look what you did. Bro, this has gotta be the worst toast-related crime ever committed on this asteroid. How do you sleep at night?”

Dave rushed back to the stove and twisted off the burner, though he could already tell there was no saving it. The crust of the bread had charred completely black, and a growing cloud of smoke was billowing from the pan. Dave stared at it. All at once he felt like he was going to throw up, and his gut clenched so tightly he nearly _did_ \- but he turned it into a cough instead, and fanned at the smoke to cover for it.

“ _Damn_ it,” he choked. He had to clean it up, but suddenly he couldn’t think of _how._ Scrape it off and just… throw it away. _Scrape it off. Throw it away. It’s fine, it cost like, 2 grist. Just throw it away and start over and it’s not a big deal._

Dave tossed the whole pan, toast and all, into the sink and headed back to the transportalizer.  
“Whatever,” he said flippantly, “I’m not even hungry. I don’t even like french toast.”

Karkat backed awkwardly out of the way, and Dave stepped onto the pad and disappeared.

Karkat looked up at the girls, who looked back at him, and for a few long seconds nobody said a word.  
Then Kanaya said, “…Is he okay?”  
Rose poked at her plate. “He’s…” she frowned. “…We’re all coping with this in our own way. Try not to judge him too harshly.”

 

\---

 

Dave didn’t know where he was going, only that if he stopped walking he was going to fall apart. His headphones were blasting so loudly it was giving him a headache, but he didn’t want to hear his own thoughts. Thinking, now _there_ was a mistake. _None of that, Strider, just keep walking_. He’d already lost track of where he was, but just then he didn’t particularly care. Anywhere was good, nowhere was even better, _oh god what_ was _that_?

Dave sunk against a wall and slid slowly to the floor. He pressed both palms to his temples and tried to focus on nothing but the slow rush of air in and out of his lungs.

“Captain’s Log, star date who-knows-and-who-cares,” he said shakily. “Dave freaks out over literally fucking nothing, making himself look dumb as hell in front of friend, foe, and family alike.” He buried his face in his knees, and then wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “Tune in next week for the thrilling conclusion, where Dave cries about raisins.” Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. “Pretty fucked up though, how they’re just mummified grapes.”

He wrung his sleeves in his hands, feeling slightly disgusted about how damp they were from his sweaty palms. _Don’t think about that, think about fuckin'… dead presidents._  
“George Washington,” he said firmly. “John Adams, Thomas Jefferson. J Maddison, J Monroe, motherfuckin, John Quincy Adams. Andrew J-Dawg. Martin Van Buren, William goddamn Henry fucking _Harrison_.”  
Dave sighed and sat back. His heart was still racing, but he no longer felt like a misplaced sneeze might cause him to spontaneously combust.  
“Ohhhhh Jesus, that was fun,” he complained to the wall. The wall, predictably enough, said nothing. Dave forced himself to his feet. “Allllright, now that that’s over with. Time to go clean up my stupid mess.”

 

\---

 

Rose and Kanaya had already left by the time he got back to the common room. This was great. Karkat, however, had not. Less great, but, whatever. Dave tried to look nonchalant as he made his way over to the sink, and avoided looking in Karkat’s direction altogether. Of all the people on the meteor, Karkat was one of the ones he was least familiar with. He’d barely spoken to him during their session, only just enough to gather he was A) Loud, (yikes,) B) Pissy, (double yikes,) and C) Kind of a dweeb. In the months since they’d resituated themselves into this happy, healthy temporary space home he’d confirmed that he was A) Just as loud in person as in caps-locked text, B) Probably exaggerating his supposed unbridled rage 9 times out of 10, and C) Really, extremely, definitely a dweeb.

Dweebishness notwithstanding though, he really didn’t want to give the guy any fodder to use against him.

Dave blinked down into the empty sink. He glanced, befuddled, at the clear counters. There was no sign of any of the morning’s damage.  
“Um,” Karkat said, and finally Dave made himself look over in that corner. Karkat gestured awkwardly at the table. “Rose said to tell you that the only thing alchemized is the jam. Er, and the ingredients.”

Dave stared uncomprehendingly at the table. Set up, just as picturesque as if someone had painted it, was the coziest little spread of breakfast he’d ever seen. In addition to the french toast, Rose had provided both bacon and sausage, along with fried eggs, hash browns, a slice of grapefruit, and a large mug of tea. Brown sugar, powdered sugar, butter, and strawberry jam had been sat out in little dishes on one side, as well as cream and sugar cubes for the tea.

“Oh,” was all Dave could manage to say.  
“Anyway,” Karkat said sheepishly, “I can leave if you want, I’m almost done.”  
Dave slid limblessly into the chair.  
“No,” he said distantly, “Naw, it’s cool. You don’t have to.”

…What the _fuck_ , Rose? 


	3. II: Routine :|

Karkat chewed awkwardly on a mouthful of grubcake, swirling what was left of it in the gravy-like sauce on his plate. He really wished Dave would have just said yes, so he could leave and not have to deal with… whatever this was. Some guy he barely knew’s weird personal issues.

Well. Some guy he… kinda knew. Some guy he maybe, sorta _wanted_ to know? The problem, (among others,) was… He’d never actually initiated a friendship in person. He _had_ met a few of his friends on Alternia in person eventually, but he’d already known them quite well over the web by then.

But what were the other options? He and Kanaya had been close- were still close, he guessed- but it was undeniable that she was preoccupied with the pursuit of other relations. And Terezi had basically been avoiding him ever since the Gamzee fiasco to pal with Vriska, who was suddenly her bestest bulge buddy again. Who did that leave for conversation? Gamzee? He didn’t even know where Gamzee was, only that Vriska had ‘taken care’ of him in some vaguely sinister fashion.

Hypothetically it should have been easy. Make some casual conversation, discuss common interests, and then maybe proceed to an activity. Except that Dave Strider didn’t have casual conversation. Dave Strider had aggravating pissing contests and turned literally everything into a fucking joke. Karkat had tried inviting him to watch a movie once, and gotten the most _baffling_ speech in response. Something along the lines of, ‘It’s not you, it’s me and my flagrant heterosexuality.' What the fuck was wrong with humans?

Karkat took another bite of grubcake to keep from having to say anything.

“So,” Dave said at last, breaking the stalemate. He’d been tearing through his breakfast with such fervor that Karkat had almost wondered if he’d forgotten he was there. “That _was_ you, right?”  
“Wh-“ Karkat swallowed his mouthful too quickly, and could feel it in a hard lump travelling down his throat. He tried again, “What?”  
“I mean, I know it was you,” Dave said. He paused to take a large gulp of tea, screwing up his face at the taste, apparently finding it less than pleasant. “I just wanna know if it was _you_ you, or some other you.”  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Karkat droned, but the drifting of his eyes gave him away.  
“Haha, yeah, okay,” said Dave, “But- you do. You were there, in my dream, last night.”

Karkat pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “I really don’t want to know about your flush dreams, Strider.”  
“Fuck off,” Dave said, leaning over the table toward him. “I didn’t dream _about_ you, you were _in my dream_. Like, in my bubble, all up in my zone like a cat in heat.”  
“And I thought _I_ was the one with the temper problems,” said Karkat. His upper lip quirked up on one side to display a length of fang. “Why do you care so much? We all end up in each other’s dream bubbles anyway, nobody likes it, but you don’t see them storming around and setting things on fire.”  
Dave’s shoulders tensed, and for a split second Karkat thought he was _actually_ going to hit him. Then he relaxed and flopped back into his chair, nonchalant as ever.

“I just wanna know how you do it,” Dave said. He shoved his mouth full of sausage.  
“Do what?”  
“Find the same bubble,” Dave said, mouth still full, “And don’t even try to deny it, I’m not stupid.”  
Karkat gave him a smirk that said, ‘sure you’re not,’ which Dave politely ignored.  
“For your information, it’s not the same bubble,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to be a hero of space to know how stupid that sounds. And aren’t you supposed to know shit about _time_? It’s basically the same thing.”  
“School me, then,” Dave said. He shoveled a whole egg into his mouth and chewed heartily.

“Well,” said Karkat. “We’re moving, obviously. I don’t know exactly how it works, but dream bubbles are tied to physical and temporal location. So we’re forming new ones as we go- actually, they’re already formed- and the old ones move further and further away- except it’s us that’s moving, obviously- making them inaccessible-”  
“Ohhhhhh god,” Dave said. Over the course of the rant he’d slid down in his chair until now, he was almost under the table. “That’s not what I meant. How do you keep finding _my_ bubbles?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Karkat said. “Like I said, they’re tied to where we are. As long as we’re both sleeping in our usual respiteblocks, it’s not hard to figure out the general direction and then just fly there.”  
Karkat saw, just over the edge of the table, the corners of Dave’s mouth turn up in a smirk.  
“So you admit you’ve been spying on me?”  
“What?” Karkat dropped his fork with a clatter.  
Dave raised a finger over the table to waggle it in Karkat’s direction.  
“No backsies,” he said. “It’s fine, I’ll forgive you. IF.”  
He paused for dramatic effect, and Karkat stared him down, unblinkingly.  
“IF,” Dave continued, unperturbed. “You teach me how to do it.”

Karkat scowled. “How am I supposed to do that? You just fly off, that’s all there is to it.”  
“Okay,” said Dave, “But how do I _do_ that?”  
“Asshole, you could fly right now if you wanted to!” Karkat shouted. “Step one: you do it, wow, amazing, there’s only one step! It’s not that fucking complicated!”  
“ _Okay_ ,” Dave said patiently. “Listen, Karkat, I dunno about you, but I don’t have a lot of control over my dreams. They just sort of happen, I’m not even aware of it until they’re over unless a dead person shows up to pop my cherry.”  
“Wh- oh.” Karkat blinked. “That’s… That’s just something I learned to do a long time ago. Trolls call it ‘dream walking.’”

“Hmm,” said Dave. “Sorta like what Jade did? Flying around Prospit and just hanging out and stuff?”  
“No,” said Karkat. “I didn’t wake up on Prospit until the very end of our session, right when dog-for-brains showed up.”  
“Then, more like that episode of Blue’s Clues where they will the nightmare thoughts away?”  
“I… guess?” Karkat said warily. “I read about it on the internet, and then taught myself how to do it. It’s just becoming aware that you’re dreaming. Sometimes it’ll just wake you up, or you’ll realize you’re dreaming but be unable to stop from going along with it. If you get good at it, though, you can control _everything_.” He paused thoughtfully. “If you want to. I think the nature of this place lends itself to the concept. It’s been easier for me to do here, and I’ve been able to do things I’ve never been able to do before. Like leaving the bubbles.”

Dave loudly scooted his chair out with his legs, and righted himself back into a sitting position. He chugged down the rest of his tea while he pondered.  
“ _That_ ,” he said firmly, wiping his mouth. “Teach me how to do _that_.”  
“I don’t even know if humans can, Dave,” Karkat said carefully. “Your delicate think pan might break, or something.”  
“I think I can handle it. Meet me back here tonight, once everyone’s gone to bed,” Dave said, getting up from the table. He picked up his half-full plate of food in one hand and his cup and silverware in the other. “Hey, help me clean this shit up, would you? There's like, a whole damn flighty broad banquet over here. Rose is _out of control_.”

 

\---

 

“Until the morrow, Ms. Maryam,” said the aforementioned Rose, her arms folded over the book clasped to her chest. Her eyes were half lidded, and her lips turned into a tender smile. The slightest hint of color rose to Kanaya’s stark white cheeks, and she returned the smile carefully.  
“Goodnight, Rose. Sleep well,” she said. She stood from her chair, but did not move to exit the room until Rose had already faded from sight.   
Kanaya sighed softly, and then instead of departing, she turned to the back corner of the room, where the sole other occupant still sat.

Karkat was slouched on the couch with his crabtop out and his headphones in, and was glaring at the screen like it had made some personal affront to him. Kanaya perched on the far side of the couch and smoothed her skirts carefully, first frowning over at him and then the screen.

Karkat glanced over at her, and then pulled the headphones out so she could share in the delight of the script.

“Now, say you're a bird, too,” a human girl in admirable headwear was saying.  
“If you're a bird, I'm a bird,” said the human male she was embracing. They kissed.  
Kanaya raised her eyebrows.  
“I am aware I have missed a significant portion of the story,” she said, frowning, “but it seems to me that neither of them have any resemblance to any tweetfowl I’m familiar with.”  
“That’s the least of their problems,” Karkat grumbled. “I just don’t understand it, Kanaya. I’ve seen this movie six times, and Human Ryan Gosling has my heart, but I just can’t follow it.  It’s a typical highblood/lowblood coupling, but all the conflict is preposterous. Why is her Adult Human Lusus so involved in her romantic affairs? Not to mention the contention between Ryan and Human James Marsden.”  
Kanaya nodded idly like she understood.  
“It’s so _stupid_. James is obviously her Kismesis, and Ryan her Matesprit. They should both be able to court her without issue.”

“It is my observation that humans prefer a single-partnered relationship,” said Kanaya.  
“Like shit they do,” Karkat snorted. “Watch any human movie, Kanaya. There’s _never_ only one romantic interest. The mono-faceted reciprocation dynamic is a cultural lie that they eat up and regurgitate but it has no factual basis. Their media reveals the truth, I’m telling you.”  
“Okay,” said Kanaya. She fell silent, and after a moment of awkward silence Karkat reached to pause the movie. The human pair were captured in a still frame of what was undoubtedly a very touching moment.

“So… Do you need something?” Karkat asked.  
Kanaya shifted, wringing her hands in her lap. She shrugged. “I am not certain.”  
Karkat gave her a knowing look, squinting his eyes at her intently.  
“Red or Black?” he said, but he had a feeling he already knew.  
“Red,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation, “But I am not sure how red.”  
“On her end or yours?”  
Kanaya hummed. “…On both ends, I suppose.”

Karkat patted her knee reassuringly. “Honestly? I think it could be as red as you want it to be.”  
Kanaya rolled her eyes, but smiled. “It pleases me to hear you say so.”  
Karkat shrugged. “I don’t know what you see in her, but if it makes you happy.”

Again, Kanaya hesitated. Then she placed her hand on top of Karkat’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.  
“What about you?” she asked quietly.  
“Ugh, what _about_ me?” Karkat said bitterly. “There’s nothing to say about me, not anymore- _if_ there was ever anything to begin with, which I’m really starting to doubt.”  
“If it makes you feel any better, I do believe her and Vriska’s to be a pale relationship.”  
Karkat snorted.  
“It doesn’t, but thanks.” He sighed. “To be honest I don’t even care about pursuing her that way anymore. I just miss how close we used to be. Now it’s like, when she talks to me, it’s all on his weird surface level where nothing really matters. Like she’d rather be dead than caught saying something actually meaningful, you know?”

“I am certain she doesn’t mean to be like that,” said Kanaya. “She still cares for you. But… relationships with Vriska tend to be… enveloping.”  
“Oh fuck, right, I forgot that you and her…”  
Kanaya hummed. “Whatever we were or weren’t once, it was in a past life.”  
“Hmm,” Karkat hummed back. Kanaya issued a number of reassuring clicks from the back of her throat, and Karkat found himself subconsciously leaning towards her. She was still clasping his hand.

“Beyond all that,” she said, and Karkat jerked and then righted himself, almost like he’d been falling asleep. “…How are you doing, Karkat?”  
Karkat slid his hand away from her and sunk in on himself, looking away. “I’m just great, Kanaya, I’m real fucking great.”  
Kanaya looked conflicted, but she did not reach to touch him again.  
“…Know that you can always talk to me, Karkat,” she said gently. “I am never too busy to help a friend.”  
Karkat grunted, but said nothing.

“...If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to finish this movie with you.”  
“Shit, really?” Karkat’s eyes lit up. He surprised even himself with how excited he felt despite his bitter mood. “Here, I’ll just start it over so you can see what an utter clusterfuck it is.”  
Kanaya smiled. “I would love that.”

 

\---

 

After Kanaya finally went to bed, Karkat was left alone in the vacated room. Honestly, it was a relief after so many hours spent waiting for everyone to leave. Karkat preferred to pass his time in his makeshift respiteblock, away from the idle prattle and the chance of someone popping over to harass him. So even though it had only been for the evening and he’d mostly kept to himself, Karkat felt exhausted.

He was even beginning to doze off just a little. His eyes were open but out of focus, and he’d long since stopped following the plot of his movie.

Karkat jerked awake at the tell-tale whirring of the transportalizer when at last it stirred to life.  
“Fucking finally,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Do you know how long I’ve been-“  
But it wasn’t Dave Strider standing on the pad.  
“…Terezi.”

Terezi started in surprise. She obviously hadn’t expected anyone to be there, but she quickly recomposed herself and took a deep breath through her nose. She grinned broadly, showing off far too many teeth.

“Kaaaaaaaarkat,” she crooned.  
“Oh for the love of-“ Karkat pressed his hands to his face. “Stop! Doing that! Every time you do that it’s like an entire hive of stingbugs just set up camp on my bulge and went to town!”  
“Kinky,” said Terezi.  
“No it isn’t! It’s infuriating!” Karkat folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t give a bugwinged fuck that you two are blistering each other’s nooks, but can you keep the asinine quirk mimicking to a minimum? I can _hear_ you counting to eight in your head.”  
Terezi’s grin slowly faded away, replaced by a thin line.  
“You never used to be like this,” she said, with none of her usual bravado. “You used to be fun.”

“Hoofbeasts’ bleeding shame globes,” Karkat snarled. “I’ve always been _exactly_ like this. You’re the one who’s changed.”  
“That’s what happens when you grow up, Karkat!” Terezi snapped, shouting back now. “You change! You change for the better! If my happiness upsets you that much, then maybe we _can’t_ be friends anymore!”  
“Like you’ve been acting like a friend _anyway!!_ ” Karkat screeched, so loud that his voice cracked.

Beneath Terezi’s feet, the transportalizer began to glow. She quickly hopped to the side just in time to avoid a collision.  
“Whoa,” Dave said, taking a step back. “…Am I interrupting something?”  
“No,” Terezi said sharply. She shooed Dave off the pad, and then disappeared without another word.  
Dave looked over at Karkat, who looked down at his feet, glaring like they’d turned into spiders while he wasn’t paying attention.

“You okay, man?” Dave said, approaching him slowly the way one might a cornered animal.  
“Fine.” Karkat sunk back onto the couch.  
“…Do you want to, uh. Talk about it?”  
“Fuck off, Strider.”  
Dave slouched down next to him anyway, his hands tucked in his pockets.  
“Nah,” he said.

Karkat fell forward and banged his head on his knees.  
“I hate you,” he mumbled.  
“Sure,” said Dave.  
“I hate you soooooo much.” Karkat wrapped his arms around his head and dug his fingernails into his sweater.  
“I heard you the first time, bro, don’t make it gay.”  
Karkat sat up so quickly it looked like he might get whiplash.  
“I’M-“ he started, but Dave pressed a finger to his lips.  
“Shh, shh, shh. Just-“ but he was cut off sharply as suddenly, Karkat’s teeth were sinking into the side of his hand. “Yo what the fuck!”

Dave jerked his arm away and was rewarded with several deep gashes for his efforts. “What the hell, you- you bit me.”

Dave stared at his hand. It was trembling ever-so-slightly. Karkat stared too, watching the blood well up from his wounds. It was surreal to look at, even though he’d known all along that all humans were like this- that all of them had blood like his. Karkat reached up to wipe the smear from his lips, his heart beating fast in his chest.

And then he noticed that Dave still hadn’t moved. His glasses reflected the scene as the blood began to drip from his fingers and down his wrist, staining his sleeve a shade darker.

“Fuck,” said Karkat, “I didn’t mean…”  
He stood up and put a hand on Dave’s shoulder, but Dave didn’t react. “It’s not that bad. Stand up and we’ll go wash it off in the sink.”  
Dave nodded, but made no move to stand. Then suddenly he jerked his shoulder away and jumped to his feet, striding past Karkat like he wasn’t even there.  
“Dave?” Karkat asked nervously.

But Dave just thrust his hand under the tap and turned on the water, without even bothering to roll up his sleeve. As the blood washed away, it was easier to see that the wounds were neither very deep nor very long. All the bleeding was a fluke.  
“Dave?” Karkat repeated, inching over to him apprehensively. “I didn’t think… I forgot, you humans are basically made of paper.”  
“Yeah, sure,” Dave said. “Whatever, it’s whatever.”  
“Are you mad at me?”  
“No.”  
“I deserve it if you are. Big surprise, Karkat fucked up again.”

Dave turned off the sink and grabbed a clean towel from the bottom drawer. It would stain, but who cared?

“I’m not mad at you, Karkat, get over yourself.” He walked right past him again and sat back down. Karkat watched pink slowly seep into the white towel and felt his chest tighten with guilt. “And get over here, anyway. We had an agreement, remember?”  
“…Yeah.” Karkat sat down, but immediately shifted away. He couldn’t look at him without feeling like a colossal waste of space. So much for making friends.  
Dave nudged him with his elbow. “Hey. Stop being so gloomy, I said we’re cool.”  
“Yeah.” Karkat bit his lip.

Dave raised a condescending eyebrow at him, as though the last few minutes hadn't happened and he couldn't imagine why Karkat was being awkward about it.  
“Sooooo,” he said. “Dream walking. Where do we start?” 


	4. III: Shamble

“Well,” Karkat said. He still looked on edge, but beyond that Dave could gather nothing from his slitted eyes. “You’re supposed to start by familiarizing yourself with your own dream process. Keeping a dream log is a good way, and if you’re serious about this you’ll want to start one.”  
“Oh my dick, you keep a dream diary?” Dave said giddily.  
Karkat ignored him. “Dream walking comes more naturally to some than to others, and like I said I have my doubts that humans are even capable. But it’s not like I have anything better to do, so we’ll start with the basics.”

Dave tapped his foot idly as he listened, and tried to get comfortable on the couch. What a shitty couch, though. All hard and with no cushions on the arm rests or anything, like the kind of couch old ladies had in movies. What was the point of a _decorative_ couch? He couldn’t imagine he’d ever spend much time on this thing.  
“Uh huh,” he said, because Karkat was giving him a look like he thought he wasn’t paying attention.  
Karkat narrowed his eyes in suspicion and continued, “There’s a variety of different methods, but tonight we’ll focus on key points to use with any method: reality checks and dream signs.”

 _Maybe some pillows or something would help,_ Dave thought. Not those cutesy little decorative shit things, real cushy _awesome_ pillows in like a soft plush throne.

“You should get in the habit of performing reality checks as part of your day to day routine. The easiest ones are counting and reading. Look at your hands and count your fingers. Read a sentence, look away, and then try to read it again. If it’s all fucked up? You’re probably dreaming.”

 _Nah_ , Dave thought. Rose would have something to say about it if he made any more _domestic_ changes to the common room, and he was just about sick of her smug-ass face.

“Time pieces are another easy one, and probably your best bet since it _is_ your aspect. Then there’s things like breathing under water, or… flying, but that doesn’t work for you.” Karkat looked at him accusingly. “Or looking into mirrors, but…”  
“What? What’s wrong with mirrors?” Dave frowned. “Are you bashing my sicknasty visage?”  
“Wow, _excuse me_ ,” said Karkat. “Never mind, _look_ in the dream mirrors. Whatever fills your pail.”  
“Okay, but what happens though?”  
“What the fuck do you think happens, shitbulge? You see yourself.”  
Dave raised his eyebrows. “…And?”  
“And it’s wrong!” Karkat put his hands on the cushion between them, leaning forward. “You see yourself and it’s _wrong_ , trust me, it’s not a pleasant experience.”  
“Sheesh,” Dave put up his hands like a protective shield. “Fine, okay. So what about dream signs, then?”

Karkat’s suspicious squint deepened.

“…Dream signs,” Karkat continued dubiously, “are another thing you’ll have to practice. There’s common ones, like meeting celebrities or dead people- haw haw- but really it’s unique to you. Learn to recognize the things you dream about most, and then use them to clue yourself in to the fact that you’re dreaming. …Are you even listening?”

Still perched on his hands, Dave couldn’t help but think that Karkat looked a little like an angry dog. One of those fluffy, yappy little ones that bit first and asked questions later. Dave rubbed his hand absently.

“Man, you have some serious personal space issues,” Dave said, because there wasn’t much further he could lean away.  
“Pull your head out of your nook and focus!” Karkat grumbled. “You think I can’t tell you’re spacing out just because you’re wearing glasses? ‘Clever ploy, Strider,’ said no one ever. Why did you ask me for lessons if you don’t even want to learn? Do you just _enjoy_ pissing me off, is that it? WELL. I have news for you, if this is your idea of black seduction, it is _not_ working! My loathing is purely platonic!”  
“Oh man I’m never gonna learn anything about Dream Parkour whatever if we keep arguing about fuckall nothing,” Dave groaned. “Cool your goddamn jets, guy.”  
“I’ll show you fuckall nothing-“  
“Don’t take it out on me that Terezi dumped your ass.”

With a shout like a battle cry, Karkat leapt at Dave and sent the both of them tumbling backward over the armrest and onto the ground.

“You don’t know _anything_ about Terezi, you piece of-!”

Karkat cut himself off at the sound of the transportalizer humming to life yet again. From their position on the floor, neither of them could see who had joined them. Their gazes met momentarily and in that instant a temporary ceasefire was signed. Simultaneously they strained their ears for any clue that would give their visitor away.

They heard only a soft clicking, like a dog's toenails against a tiled floor. Then the refrigerator opened, casting its brighter glow in a wide beam over the dully lit room. Whoever- whatever?- it was pulled something from the fridge, closed it again, and then made its way… in their direction.

Karkat tensed like he was getting ready for a fight, but Dave only smiled.

“Hey, Mayor.” His voice came out strained because of Karkat’s knees digging into his chest.  
The small Carapacian tilted his head at them, and then blinked slowly. He was cradling a raw head of cabbage in his arms.  
“Uh,” Karkat said awkwardly.  
The Mayor turned his head the other direction, blinking rapidly at Karkat. Then he pulled a large leaf from the cabbage, and handed it to him. Karkat took it automatically, and while he pondered over it, The Mayor repeated the process with Dave.

“Thanks, man,” Dave said, holding it reverently in one hand.  
The Mayor scrambled up onto the couch and disappeared from view, before reappearing and peeking over the armrest and down at them.  
“I think he wants us to sit with him,” Dave wheezed.  
Incredulously, Karkat climbed up off of Dave, holding the cabbage leaf the way one might hold an infant thrust upon them unexpectedly. The two of them got up and resituated themselves on the couch, with The Mayor shimmying over to sit in between them. He chomped down happily on the cabbage.

“So,” Dave said. “Dream signs. I think I have some ideas.”

 

\---

 

Dave flicked open his zippo lighter with the tell-tale clink of metal, and thumbed it to life in a single smooth motion. He pressed it to the cigarette perched between his lips and then took a long, hard drag. He had the feeling it was gonna be one hell of a day.

Dave had made his outpost in the cradle of two slanted billboards. On the east side, the sign read, “Good Vibrations XXX Adult Toys and Novelty Gifts,” while the west sign advertised a ventriloquist show, featuring a puppet with striking blue eyes. Dave had boarded over one opening and covered the other with a tarp, which was currently rolled up to give him a clear view of the surrounding area. He was lounging on a ledge with his legs dangling over the side, and had a set of binoculars on hand.

But the view was pretty clear, even from up here. There weren’t too many of them today, at least not nearby. He could see them shambling along the otherwise deserted streets, a few of them alone but most of them wandering in herds of three to five.

Z*****s.

Er, “The Infected.” The living dead, the crawling terrors, a necrophiliac’s wet and gooey dream.  
No bullshit though, they were zombies.

The end of the world had come so quickly and so unexpectedly that, to Dave’s knowledge, there wasn’t a soul alive who even knew how it had happened. Dave had his own theories, each one wilder than the last and equally unfounded on anything that could be construed as fact. He supposed it didn’t matter. However it had happened, it had happened. 28 days later and pretty much everyone was dead.

This suited him just fine. Dave Strider always had been a lone wolf. If nothing else, Bro’s training had made him self-sufficient. Taking care of himself, looking out for himself… This was the good life. Yep, he loved it. Bro would have said that the isolation built character, and damn, if he wasn’t just leaking character from every pore. Dave Strider was a rugged, take-no-prisoners man of action, and definitely not slowly descending into madness from the crippling loneliness.

Dave tapped his ashes off the side of the banister and let them tumble freely to the ground far below. Today’s mission plan was simple, but that didn’t mean he could afford to be careless. That’s when they got you. On the casual days, when you least expected it. Dave Strider was a survivor, and he wasn’t about to be caught with his pants down on a routine grocery run. He took one last drag of his cigarette, and then flicked it over the edge half-finished. Time to get down to business.

Dave pulled his surgical mask back over his face, (he had no proof the virus was spread through the air, but better safe than sorry, and he thought it looked pretty cool anyway. Especially with the SBaHJ-themed improvements he’d made,) donned his gear, and started down the long, long ladder to ground level.

 

\---

 

Dave gritted his teeth at the racket the door made as he nudged it open; just the faintest, high-pitch creak, but in the silence and stillness it rang out like a gunshot. The interior of the building was lit only by the slatted rays of sunshine that filtered in from the windows and danced on the thick mist of dust. Damn, shit did go to hell in a hurry. Or maybe whoever had lived here previously hadn’t been too keen on cleaning.

He pushed his way into the living room and then closed the door behind him with a soft click. Alright, now to weigh his options. Did he waste his precious time scouring the house and save himself the joy of a surprise intrusion, or did he jump straight to the kitchen, ransack it for all it was worth, and get the hell out of Dodge before anyone could shamble down the stairs?

Tempting as the second prospect was, he’d had a few too many close calls to risk it this early in the hunt. There was still plenty of time for everything to go wrong and force him to make calls he’d later regret. Nice and easy, just the way he was taught. Careful, precise, thorough. Surgical, yeah, that was a good adjective. He was a goddamn murder surgeon, only it wasn’t murder because they were already dead, et cetera. One room at a time…

Dave drew in a slow breath as he eased his way up the stairs. He thought he could hear something moving around up there, though maybe _sensed_ was a better word for it. _Someone_ , he thought, _Something… Huddled in the bathroom…_ Every muscle in his body turned to lead and the pit of his stomach twisted sharply, sending a wave of bile up the back of his throat- but he forced it back down. He definitely _could_ hear something, now. Crying. Someone was crying.

Dave tightened his grip around the hilt of his blade and drew it out in a fluid motion. He caught a glimpse of himself in it as it hit the light, and found himself thinking with a twisted sense of dread, _I look just like him_. He blinked and then averted his gaze. Focus…

At the top of the stairs was a short hallway, from which branched three open doors and ended in a fourth closed door. Judging from the muffled tone, the fourth door held the mystery weeper. That being said, he figured he ought to check the other three first. Just in case. It wouldn’t do to find a survivor only to get ganked from behind. You know who did that? People who _weren’t_ the protagonist, and he damn well wasn’t going to be reduced to a sassy bit character. No way.

The room directly at the top of the stairs, it seemed, belonged to a fairly standard teenager. Awful movie posters lined the walls, and there was a bed nestled in one corner and a computer desk tucked in the opposite. He checked under the bed just in case, and then in the closet, but there weren’t a lot of places for a zombie to hide.

The other two rooms were much the same, one fastidiously well kept, the other an apocalyptic disaster, both belonging to- he assumed- girls around his age. There was something comfortingly familiar about them, though he was sure he’d never set foot in any of them. No zombies, at least. That was good.

But that left him with… He stared at the bathroom door. He could always just… find a different house to target. For all he knew this place had already been raided. The door wasn’t locked, after all. Anyone could have come in here, and why should he stake his skin on a chance at goods when there was a _known threat_ lurking on the opposite side of an inch-and-a-bit of flimsy plywood?

Unless. Unless it really was a survivor. Dare he hope for that? Dare he risk it all on the wild chance?

…Of course he did, he had to. If they were a survivor they needed his help, and- and god, it had been so long since he’d seen another human being. He’d killed so many empty vessels that it had started to feel like that was all there was; him, the living, breathing person, and an army of mindless corpses that ran only on instinct and appetite.

He pulled open the door and brandished his katana at the ready.

The first thing he thought was an irreverent, ‘You startled the witch!’  
The second thing he thought was, “…Rose?”  
Rose turned her head up at him with distant, glazed-over eyes.  
“Dave?” Rose said quietly, disbelief lacing the single syllable like a hayfever-sufferer’s dripping snot rag.  
“Fuck, Rose, you look like hell,” Dave said. His own voice sounded strange to him, dry and cracked from lack of use. At first he’d tried to keep himself sane, (ironically,) by talking to himself at the top of his tower where nobody living or dead could hear him. After a while, he’d given up on even that. Or maybe it was that he’d grown sick of the sound of his own voice in the way he’d grown sick of his own thoughts when they were his only company. Easier not to think, or feel, or remember…

“C’mon, Rose, we’ll get you out of here,” Dave said, foolishly sheathing his sword and extending his hand.  
“Don’t,” Rose said, turning away. It was only then, with her head turned, that he saw it. It wasn’t very big, but that didn’t matter. A bite was a bite. “There’s nothing you or anyone can do for me, now.”  
“Oh god, Rose,” Dave put his hand on his mask to doubly cover his mouth. He felt sick. This- _this_ was sick. This was too much, how was he supposed to…  
“Unless…” And then she faced him again, and this time, there was the dull light of an idea behind those clouded eyes.  
“Yes,” she whispered, “I couldn’t do it myself, but if you did it for me…”

“What are you talking about?” Dave said stiffly, but he already knew. He would have asked the same, were he in her shoes.  
“You keep your blade sharp, right?” she asked. Shakily, she was trying to climb to her feet. “I won’t even feel it. I’m- I’m not sure I would, anyway, I feel so…”  
She trailed off in a rasping gasp for breath.  
“Oh- ohhhh god, Rose, no way,” Dave said before he could stop himself.  
_Coward_ , shouted a voice in his head, a familiar voice, and he couldn’t argue with it.  
“Please, Dave,” Rose begged. She was clinging to the flimsy shower rod just to stay standing, and it was sagging dramatically under her weight. “Kill me.”

“Fuck!” Dave shouted. “Fuck, Rose, I can’t!"  
“I’m going to die anyway,” Rose insisted, “Please, let it be as a human.”  
“Motherfuck this cliché ass bullshit!” Dave yelled, staggering backwards out of the bathroom.

He slammed the door in Rose’s face.

 

\---

 

“Wiggity wack, Strider’s a hack, get the fuck out of that crazy shack,” Dave chimed at no one in a sing-song voice as he flung open the front door and made his way out onto the steps. Don’t think about it, just move. Just keep moving and don’t think-

He could hear Rose screaming. And if _he_ could hear Rose screaming, others could too.

He had to run. There were no other options.

 

\---

 

The streets had filled with a heavy fog in just the short amount of time he’d wasted on that monumental blunder of an undertaking. How long had he been in there? A short time, he thought at first, and then he thought, hours. _Hours_ climbing up those stairs. Hours standing at that door. Curiosity killed the fucking cat, and goddamn, regret brought it back from the dead with a vengeance and a thirst for flesh. Uh, extra flesh-thirst, more than was usual for a cat.

If only he’d just moved on to a different house.

He could hear them, could hear _lots_ of them. How many? A dozen, or more, scratching at fences with their rotted finger bones and moaning through lipless mouths and torn throats. Scratch the fucking scavenging mission, he’d blown this one right out the prolapsed anus. He had to get back to his post before-

Someone screamed. A _human_ scream, a human girl caught with her back to a chain link fence and three lumbering figures lurching toward her. Dave didn’t even pause to think. He vaulted over the fence in a clamor of rattling metal and held his blade at the ready, poised like he wasn’t in the middle of a fucking mental breakdown.

He recognized the faces as they solidified out of the fog. Kanaya, Vriska, Terezi. He didn’t pause to think where he knew them from, because it would only make this harder. His foot brushed aside rocks as he readied himself and then plunged into them in a flurry of precision blade-work that he thought even Bro would be jealous of. Their torsos slumped to the ground in a staccato, followed a split second later by the echoing beat of their heads cracking open on the pavement.

Dave looked away to spare himself the image, and damn, if he didn’t look like a cool guy doing it.

Jade Harley watched him in rapturous awe, her eyes comically wide behind her big, round glasses. Dave quirked a grin at her, and flashed her a thumbs up that turned into an offered hand.

“Come with me if you want to live,” he said. It was the first thing that came to mind.  
Jade rushed forward, ignoring his hand to fling her arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.  
“You saved my life,” she sighed into his hair.  
“No problem, babe,” Dave said, returning the hug one-armed. “Just doing what any guy would do.”

She pulled down his mask and kissed him.

 

\---

 

Jade sat next to him under the tent of his safe house, leaning against one of the many metal beams that held up “Forbidden Pleasures XXX Adult Gifts and Novelty Toys.”  The juxtaposition of this pretty girl sitting in this place that had for so long been only his made Dave’s chest ache. He offered her a cigarette, which she took without a word. Sitting above the billowing clouds of fog, they could have been anywhere. They could have been nowhere, lost among this white haze, alone, but together.

“Hey Jade,” Dave said idly. Words still tasted cumbersome and alien in his mouth.  
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Dave,” Jade said softly.  
Dave found he liked the dainty way she held her cigarette. It reminded him of an actress, like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.  
“Okay.” Dave closed his eyes. He breathed in the smell of cigarette smoke and imagined that maybe things would be okay. His life and the world were a wreck but at least he wasn’t alone anymore.

“…Dave,” Jade said, but her voice sounded far away. “Dave, please. Don’t wake up. I don’t want to disappear.”

Dave opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Related art: [[x]](http://40.media.tumblr.com/f682b536720b6b3490480fce1d8580fd/tumblr_nz6jbxcibX1ugpw7bo1_1280.png)


	5. IV: Regret

“Hey Rose, you’re not busy, are you?” Dave said, scooting out a chair across from her and plopping down unceremoniously.  
“Yes, Dave,” Rose said, without looking up. She had three separate vials precariously balanced in her left hand, and was slowly pouring a fourth into a fifth with her right. “That’s the obvious conclusion to come to when witnessing the circumstances that are currently taking place.”  
“What are you even doing?” Dave said, leaning in on his elbows. “Jk, I don’t actually care, listen, you gotta do one of your dream psycho-cunnilinguses on me.”  
“After such a polite request, how could I refuse?” Rose said, pursing her lips. “…Go on, I’m listening.”

“Alright, okay,” Dave said. He splayed out his fingers and smoothed his palm over the table in an arc like he was spreading out an invisible map. “I’ll cut right to the juicy bits, I know you love those juicy bits. What. Does it mean. If someone in your dream begs you not to wake up?”  
“That certainly is juicy…” Rose set the empty vial aside and extracted another from her other hand. She lifted it to her nose, and then to Dave’s surprise she took a tiny sip. “It means that you’re psychologically damaged beyond repair, probably. I’m going to need a little more information. Start from the beginning.”

Dave sighed. He leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair and then threading them together behind his head.  
“It was just a shitty zombie dream, that’s the only bit that mattered.”  
“Quite the contrary, dear brother,” Rose chided. “The con _text_ is far more important than the con _tent_.”  
She tipped about half the vial into a flask suspended over the makeshift burner in front of her. The murky brown liquid inside lightened a few shades as the creamy liquid bubbled into it. Dave sniffed. Rose’s science experiment was making him hungry, and not in the mood to talk about rotting corpses.

“Okay,” Dave said. He closed his eyes and tried to remember. “So I was up on these billboards, smoking a cigarette.”  
“You don’t smoke.”  
“I know, but anyway-“  
“What was on the billboards?”  
“Shit, I don’t remember. Stop interrupting and let me just get this all out before you start tearing it apart.” Dave brought a hand to his temple and pressed it to his forehead, massaging gently like it might unlock the secrets of his third eye. “Anyway I went out to gather supplies, and I went into this suburban-type house. Just a regular house, not ghetto but not like fancy or anything.”

“Mmhm…” Rose selected another vial and began tapping what looked like white grains of sand into her concoction.  
“So I went upstairs to check if there were any zombies around, cuz hey, that’s when they get ya. And I hear a girl crying, but I decide to check the other rooms first just in case.”  
“Describe the rooms to me,” Rose hummed. She sat her vials back in their holders, and began to stir the mixture in slow, dreamy circles.  
“Don’t even gotta,” Dave said. “It was you guys’ rooms, yours and John’s and Jade’s.”  
“And was the fourth room yours?”  
“Nah it was a bathroom.” Dave shrugged. “But get this, I open the door and it’s you in there.”

“Was I a member of the walking dead?” Rose asked, with a note of amusement. She was actively watching him now, the way a lazy cat eyes a bird on the far end of the lawn. Not quite ready to pounce, but still with a keen interest in her eyes.  
“Not yet, but you were bit,” Dave said. He hesitated, imagining Rose-the-cat flexing her claws and licking her teeth. This was the part he didn’t particularly want to get in to. “And then you asked me to kill you to preserve your humanity, so I did. Moving on-“  
“No, no,” Rose crooned. “This is important. How did you kill me?”  
“With my sword, moving on-“  
“Ooh, a phallic object…” Rose smiled pleasantly. A big, fat, ugly cat with feathers in her fat, ugly mouth. “Was it a stabbing or a slashing blow?”

“God damn it,” Dave’s knees fell from the table, and his chair clunked heavily to the ground. “Okay, so I didn’t kill you. I ran away like a pussy. Happy?”  
“I’m very happy you didn’t kill me, Dave,” Rose said, her expression never changing.  
“Whatever. So I ran like a cowardly little bitch, and outside it was all foggy when it hadn’t been before. I could hear the zombies coming but I couldn’t see any of them yet, and then I heard someone scream. It was Jade, and she’d been cornered by a bunch of ‘em up against a fence. So I sprang to the rescue, climbed over the fence, and decapitated them all with my mighty phallus.” He paused. “They were the troll girls, if that matters.”  
“Just the girls? Karkat wasn’t there?”  
“Yeah, he wasn’t even in this dream, which is weird cuz-“ Dave caught himself. He pursed his lips, frowned, and then frowned even more intensely, to a comedic degree. “Nice. There is no way to say this that you’re not gonna jump on like a starving hyena, so here it is, you slobbering monster. I dream about Karkat a lot.”

If she had descended into mad cackling like fucking Skeletor it would have been less ominous than her carefully practiced neutral patience. Dave gave an exaggerated yawn, raised his hand to cover it, and then closed every finger but his middle.  
“What happened next, Dave?” Rose asked sweetly.  
“Then she kissed me,” Dave said firmly, brandishing the phrase like a shield against Rose’s silent assault. “Jade, I mean, not the decapitated troll heads. How fucked up would _that_ be?”

Rose giggled, and that was when Dave knew he’d lost. She’d forged the conclusion she wanted, and Dave had a feeling he knew what it was. Why had he even bothered asking?  
“And then we went up to my safe house and smoked some cigarettes, and then I was waking up and she said to me, ‘Please don’t wake up, I don’t want to disappear.’”

“Hmm,” Rose said. She steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. “Hmm, hmm, hmm. Where to start.”  
“Ugh, just get on with it,” said Dave, folding his arms on the table and burying his face in them. “Tell me how kissing Jade in my dream makes me gay.”  
“We’ll get to that,” Rose said, “but let’s start with the cigarettes. Smoking in dreams is, generally, a symbol for anxiety. Also a phallic symbol, if you’re interested in such things-“  
“I’m not.”  
“But more important is the fact that you, yourself, are not a smoker. Tell me, do you have any strong associations with the smell of cigarettes?”

“Um.” Dave tilted his head to look up at her, though he kept his chin resting on his forearm. Of course he did. His whole apartment reeked of the things, and had for as long as he could remember. You smoked cigarettes to cover up the cannabis. He could remember when Bro told him that, and god, how old had he even been? Six? Seven? Seven years old, and hell if he wasn’t well equipped with all the latest tips on how to hide your marijuana use from the po-po.  
“Not really,” he said. “Just shit from tv.”  
“Ah, the rebellious image,” Rose said, none the wiser. “In that case, it probably symbolizes a desire to break taboos.”  
“Sure,” said Dave. “You know me, I’m a renegade.”

“The next thing I’m interested in is the house,” said Rose. “A house where all your friends live, but with no room for you. I think the symbolism on that is quite obvious. The fact that it’s seemingly abandoned is important, too. You feel disconnected from your friends.” She pursed her lips. “And then, there’s me. More than being a symbol for, obviously, myself, I think dream Rose symbolizes your loved ones in general. You can sense that the people you care for are in need of help, but you don’t know how to confront it, and so, you avoid it.”

Dave was silent. He didn’t want to give Rose the satisfaction of knowing how deep this was resonating. …And this was why he came to her, he supposed. Even if it was all cold reading, she always managed to pin down something he’d been floating around.

“The fact that the zombies take the form of those you cohabitate with is also pretty straight forward. Zombies have always been a symbol of society and societal pressures. A face-to-face group of peers is something you’ve never had to handle before, so it isn’t surprising that you’d struggle to adjust to it. Now, I don’t know what to make of Karkat being absent, but it sounds like you have some ideas?”

Dave grunted.

“Now, on to the interesting bit…” Rose’s solemn, sympathetic expression morphed instantly back to coy mirth. “The fog. Fog symbolism is easy enough to guess at. It represents the obscured- confusion, insecurity, self-doubt, as well as self-delusion. It appears in the moments of emotional turmoil after you’ve committed a perceived deep failing. Your inability to assist poor Rose is a strong blow to your own self-image, particularly in the way it relates to your perception of masculinity.”

“So if I were straight, I would’ve stabbed you?” Dave said. His eyebrows creased intensely. “Thrusting my phallic symbol into the needy body of a woman? Or is this more of a, ‘heads you’re gay, tails you prefer the company of men,’ sort of deal?”  
“Don’t get all worked up yet, we’re not even to the good part,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. “The _best_ part is what I think Jade symbolizes. Care to take a guess?”  
“A female lady I’d enjoy in my bone zone?” Dave said, but it sounded weak even to him.

“Tch.” Rose the cat had his wings pinned beneath her paws. She was just toying with him now, and struggling would only be giving her what she wanted. “In general, I think Jade appears in your dreams as a symbol of your pursuit of the ‘heteronormative ideal.’ But I think, in this dream in particular, she represented your masculinity. She appeared out of the fog of self-doubt in need of saving from societal expectation. You work out your frustrations with your sword, and are rewarded with a kiss from masculinity itself.”

She paused to give him a chance to react to what she clearly thought was her master stroke. Her slaying blow. Her finishing move.  
“You have to admit,” she said, eyes alight with smug satisfaction. “That’s pretty gay.”  
“Augh!” Dave said, scooting backwards. The legs of the chair scraped loudly as they made the transition from decorative rug to tile floor. “That’s what I get for trying to ask you a serious question. Remind me next time that I don’t give a shit what you have to say.”

Dave stood up, saw Karkat across the room on the couch- and it was then that he had either a brilliant or a very, very stupid idea. Most of his ideas were like this, and as they usually ended up genius one way or another, he was exactly impulsive enough to not think it through. Not a single step beyond the drive to accomplish it this very instant.

“Oy, Karkat!” he said, cupping his hands around his mouth so his voice would carry. “Hey. Hey! Hey you!”

Karkat’s eyes rolled up from his laptop to meet his gaze. The dark rings under his eyes made him look exactly as fed up as Dave currently felt, but for some reason this only encouraged him. He made a broad scooping gesture with his whole arm to summon the troll over.

Karkat visibly hesitated, but sat his sat his headphones and laptop aside and begrudgingly shuffled over.  
“What?” he said impatiently.  
Dave paused only to check that Rose was watching.  
Then he closed the gap between them-  
-leaned down and-  
pressed his lips to Karkat’s.

“See?” he said, “My sexuality is secure as _fuck_. Not a single stirring in the Stri-dick, not a twitch, not a quiver. Case fucking clo-“  
“Dave!” Rose warned, too late.  
Karkat’s knuckles cracked when the blow connected, squarely in Dave’s jaw and with enough force to make his teeth rattle. His glasses flew off his face and skittered onto the ground in a clatter.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Karkat shouted. He shoved Dave hard in the chest, and, still off-kilter from the punch, Dave fell backward to join his glasses on the floor in a heap of cape and gangly limbs. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again, you cretinous, slime-smeared bilemaggot! I’ll wear your guts as a fucking sash! I am NOT your punchline! You’re not funny! I’m not laughing! If I never see you again for the rest of this trip it’ll be too soon!”

Karkat stomped away to captchalog his stuff before storming out of the room in a furious flurry, silence falling in the room behind him.

Dave spat a mouthful of blood out onto the tile. He’d bitten his tongue pretty badly.  
“Oh my god,” said Rose.  
Dave picked up his glasses and jammed them back on his face.  
“…Shit,” he said. “Did I just get to second hate-base?”


	6. V: Stains

Karkat skulked down the hallway with his hands balled tightly into fists. This was just ridiculous. It wasn’t even like the deck was stacked against him- more like everyone was playing with a different set of cards and a different set of rules that changed every time he thought he was close to understanding them. But whatever. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t need any distractions from the intrusive thoughts that plagued him worst in times like these.

Boy, pubescence sure was a lot of thankless work.

Karkat thought he’d probably overreacted (typical) to what, in context, was probably a harmless prank. But he was just _so sick_ of being a joke, and this was the final grainstalk that broke the hoofbeast’s back. It was just so humiliating that Dave turned to him to prove his stupid point, because… he was right. What was more hi _larious_ than the implication that anyone would ever want to “unironically” kiss Karkat Vantas? Haw haw haw.

Even better was that he couldn’t claim he’d never thought about it before. When they’d first set out Karkat hadn’t thought much of the infamous Dave Strider. Terezi liked him, which made him an asshole by default, and every conversation he’d had with him on Trollian or in person had only confirmed his assumptions. Dave Strider was insufferable.

But that was the Dave Strider of the waking world, not the Dave Strider that he’d now become inadvertently acquainted with.

Karkat’s interest in Dave had begun as an act of necessity. If he was forced to live with these people for the next three years, he wasn’t going to do it in the dark- and the discovery that he could now leave his dreams and enter another’s had been a doorway straight to the root of the Strider problem. He hadn’t tried it with Rose because he wasn’t _stupid,_ (She was a Seer. What were the chances she wouldn’t notice him snooping?) but Dave was so obviously wrapped up in himself that it was easy to lurk in the background and perform as much reconnaissance as he pleased.

Then… somewhere along the line he’d lost track of that. He’d started looking forward to his rare snatches of sleep for the first time since entering the game. In contrast to the banal predictability of his day to day life, the often baffling abstractions of Dave’s mind were never the same twice. Because he was human, or… maybe just because he was _Dave_. It was like a train wreck that he just couldn’t look away from, and because of that he’d settled in to a sense of familiarity that was most definitely inappropriate. It was like John all over again, only instead of tracing his life through a monitor, in a way he was living it right along with him. It was hard to hate someone after walking a mile on their strut pods.

Well, besides himself, obviously, but that was different.

So of course he’d _thought_ about it, just as part of considering all his options. Dave Strider, friend or enemy. Dave Strider, in any quadrant. He couldn’t stop himself, it’s just the way he was. So fucking _desperate_ for attention that he’d cling to anything he could get his grimy little hands on. He didn’t even _know_ Dave. Fuck, he couldn’t even talk to him without turning it into a fight.

How disgusting.

“FREEZE, SHITBIRD.”

Karkat froze. Yes, delightful, excellent, this was _exactly_ what he wanted to deal with right now. He was caught in the intersection of three adjoining corridors, all of which were equally shrouded in impenetrable gloom. Karkat opened his mouth to scent the air, and strained his eyes without moving to try and pry an organic shape from the sharp greyscale angles of the lab interior. It was the sound of her sneakers that he located first, and then a chuffed breath that ensured an unseen grin.

“What do you want, Serket?” he snarled, bearing his teeth. His fingers were itching to summon his weapon. Part of him _wanted_ to fight her, even knowing full well that she’d effortlessly grind him into the dirt. Or, maybe even because of that. But he wouldn’t be the one to make the first move.  
Vriska cackled and stepped forth from the shadows in proper menacing villain fashion. Fucking troll girls and their dramatics.  
“I have a bone to pick with you, crab dork!” she said, brandishing her finger at him like the sharp end of a spear.  
“Oh good!” said Karkat. “Except, you know what? Pick your bonebulge on your own time, I actually have places to be.”  
“Liar!” Vriska said with delight. She slid her feet wide to block both passages in the direction he’d been heading.  
“If this is about Terezi…” Karkat started, but if that was it then he really didn’t know how to defend himself.  
“Make that two bones to pick,” Vriska snorted. “But unlike _some_ people, my moirail can fight her own battles.” 

“Great!” Karkat said, taking a step back. “You’re making that official, then! I’m so happy for you! I see she’s doing a great job at quelling your batshittiness- lurking around in dark corridors and leaping out at people like a rogue lusus really highlights it!”  
Vriska matched his step with two of her own long-legged strides.  
“You should be a little more gr-eight-ful when somebody’s saving your life,” she said.  
“Oh, yeah,” said Karkat. “I’ve never felt more grubbing secure. You’ve got all eight legs hard at work knitting me a cozy security cocoon. Praise Vriska, savior of all the helpless cullbait.”

“Let’s face it, Vantas,” Vriska said. “The way I see it now, there’s about an 88% chance of you dropping dead the second the Big Bad sneezes at you. Now, I don’t like those odds much.”  
Karkat snorted. “Why not? It conveniently has your _cute_ quirk in it. Twice. Or are you just disappointed that it’s not an even hundred?”  
“I’m hurt, Karkat,” Vriska said, clutching at her chest like he’d gone for her pump biscuit. “Do you really think I _want_ anyone on my team going down without a fight?”  
“Oh, so it’s _your_ team, now!” Karkat said, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes. “Who died and made you leader?”  
“You, retroactively,” said Vriska. “Listen, I honestly don’t _care_ who the leader is, but for as long as you’re hiding away in your respiteblock like a freshly shed pupa, _someone’s_ gotta beat the dust from our sails. Or did you forget about the murderous barkfiend hot on our trail? Helloooooooo?”  
“Fine!” shouted Karkat. “Have fun with your insipid games! Just leave me out of it.”

“You’re not listening,” Vriska said. She brandished her hand, summoning her cutlass in a flourish of blue light. “I’m not letting you sit on this rock waiting to get culled. Die fighting like a Troll, not some simpering grub.”  
“Get that out of my face, you psychopath!” Karkat yelped, leaning back. “What, too impatient to let the barkbeast do the job? Or has your ‘friend murder’ sand-based time device just run out? Too bad Terezi’s too quadrant-tied to auspistize.”  
“You dumbass,” Vriska said, laughing. “I’m not _killing_ you, I’m training you. Draw your weapon so we can get this show on the road.”  
Karkat’s lips slowly lowered back over his fangs. His hand twitched, aching for the handle of a weapon he hadn’t touched in months. She couldn’t have known how much he really _did_ want to fight her, or anyone, or anything. Even if- especially if?- he lost, he’d feel better.

But pitiful as it was, the thought of her or anyone else seeing proof of what they already knew still filled him with a nauseating sense of dread.

“Wow, for some reason I really don’t trust you,” Karkat said, narrowing his eyes.  
“Fight me,” Vriska said, edging forward. Karkat stepped back. There was an awful lot of hallway left before she could possibly corner him.  
“I’d rather sandpaper my nook.”  
Vriska lunged at him, faster than he could ever hope to react. Karkat staggered backward, clutching at his throat- it had happened so fast, he hadn’t even felt it.

Unless.

His fingers brushed skin through a hole in his sweater. No blood, not even a scratch, just a neat slit in the fabric. He could feel himself trembling and he wanted to scream.

“Draw your weapon,” Vriska said calmly, “or I’ll smear you all over the wall.”  
“For fuck’s sake! Fine!” Karkat spat. With a twist of his hand he summoned his sickle and sank into position.

 

\---

 

Dave Strider stood at the bathroom sink, examining himself in the cracked and spotty mirror, both hands braced against the basin. Under his cheekbone, a splotchy bruise had formed in a reddish crescent. It wasn’t that remarkable, really, but looking at it was bringing to the surface an awful lot of things he’d spent the last few months persistently not thinking about. It was probably best not to dwell on it. And yet, he couldn’t look away.

His own face felt strange to him. Nothing about it had changed; the same bored expression, the same lusterless skin, the same dark glasses casting harsh shadows from the stark white artificial lighting. There was nothing wrong with it, but it felt… strange. Reminded of something, Dave quickly glanced down and counted off all ten fingers curled tightly around the metal rim of the sink.  
Well, okay. That was regular, at least. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes.

He opened them when the bathroom door creaked open.

Karkat stopped in the doorway, watching him warily. He had the neck of his sweater pulled up to cover the bottom half of his face, and the speckled skin of his neck and shoulder were visible through the now very prominent tear.

“Wait-“ said Dave, before he could bolt.  
“Get out,” said Karkat dispassionately. There was an odd tone to his voice that Dave couldn’t quite place, muffled through his shirt.  
“Okay, but-“ said Dave.  
“No, get out,” Karkat said more firmly. He sounded like he had a cold, (did trolls even get colds?) even though he’d been fine just a couple hours ago.  
“I just…”  
Karkat held the door open and pointed.  
“Okay,” said Dave, “But, listen. I wanna apologize for being a dick, that was some grade A bullshit I pulled earlier and-“ Dave’s eyes caught a flash of color through the hole in Karkat’s sweater, and for a long moment he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. A line of red was inching lazily down the crease of his neck to pool in the recess of his collar. “-Jesus, are you bleeding?”

Karkat slammed the door shut and pushed past Dave to get to the mirror.  
“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck!”  
He wiped furiously at his neck with his sweater, but all that managed to do was smear it.  
“Calm down and let me see,” Dave said, raising a hand as if to reach for him.  
“ _No!_ ” Karkat wailed. “No, no, no, no, no! Get out of here!”  
“Fine, just… Here.”

Karkat stared at what Dave was offering him. A clean, but stained white hand towel. Stained with Dave’s red blood from the night before. Karkat reached for it warily. The sight of it was oddly... soothing. He pulled his sweater down off his face, smearing his mouth and chin with blood, and pressed the cloth to his nose.  
“Christ, what happened?” Dave asked, at a loss.  
“Vriska,” Karkat mumbled. “We were sparring and she knocked my own blow back into my face. ‘Accidentally.’”  
“Shit,” said Dave. “I know how that is. Uh, is it just a nosebleed? Try pinching the bridge of your nose.”

Karkat wordlessly followed his instructions, pinching his nose with one hand and dabbing at his face with the other. Dave reached over to turn on the sink for him, and Karkat thrust the towel under the stream without looking at him.  
“Other than that, though,” Dave began hesitantly, “Are you okay?”  
“I guess,” Karkat muttered nasally. Watching the sink run red with another person standing _right there_ was so surreal he almost couldn’t process it. But as far as he could tell, Dave wasn’t even looking at his blood.

“Alright,” said Dave. He took a deep breath. “So. Stop me if I’m being a dickhead, cuz yeah, this is probably a bad time. But I really, really do want to apologize?”  
Karkat grunted and mopped at his face. “Ugh, go ahead.”  
“Well okay.” Dave leaned back against the wall and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for doing that shitty thing that I did. It was really dumb and impulsive and I really, really didn’t mean… Shit, man. That stuff you said about being a punchline? That’s fucked up, I didn’t mean it like that at all, and…”  
“So what _did_ you mean, then?” Karkat asked, grimacing.

“I didn’t really mean anything,” Dave said blandly. “I know how weak that sounds, and it’s about to get worse. But I didn’t… think. About you. At all. I didn’t think about _you_ and that is so shitty and _fuck_ , I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t excuse anything, I’m not trying to like, absolve myself. I just, I don’t want you to feel bad about yourself because I’m an idiot.”  
Karkat cleared his throat and spit a mouthful of congealed blood into the sink.  
“What?” he said.  
“Ugh,” said Dave. “I was just proving a stupid point to Rose, okay? She’s just always on my case, like, trying to convince me I’m jonesin’ to suck a conga line of cock since the day we met, I swear.” 

“Uh, okay,” said Karkat.  
“But I’m not,” said Dave.  
“Yeah, whatever,” said Karkat. “I really don’t care, but… why does it even matter? I get it, you’re not ‘that way,’ but what’s _wrong_ with it?”  
“Um,” Dave paused, frowning. “…Nothing, I guess. It’s just weird, and I’m not into it.”  
Karkat dropped the towel into the sink and dried his face on his shoulder. Testingly, he let go of his nose, and when no torrent of blood erupted, he rinsed his hands and shut off the water, turning to face Dave.  
  
“I am,” Karkat said bluntly.  
Dave’s head jerked down and he stared at him. “…Oh, uh.”  
“I’m attracted to males, physically and emotionally,” Karkat said, staring him down. “Am I weird? Am I a disgusting ‘homosexual’ freak to you?”

Dave was silent, dumbstruck.  
“…No,” he said finally. “No, of course you’re not, I didn’t mean… Shit, dude.”  
Karkat shrugged. “You didn’t think. Have you _ever_ thought about it as anything but an abstract concept that happens to ‘other people’?”  
Dave rested his head on the wall. “I forgot that trolls just don’t care about that. But the thing is- humans kinda really do? You don’t sit and think about being gay, that’s kinda… gay.”  
“Who am I to judge your human customs?” Karkat asked wryly. Dave laughed, but it was an empty laugh.  
“But you’re right,” he said, frowning. “I’ve probably known some gay people, statistically speaking, but I’ve never really _known_ any gay people.”  
Karkat shrugged.

“So,” Dave said hesitantly. “You like girls too, right? What’s that like, does it like… feel different when it’s dudes?”  
Karkat narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows.  
“What a stupid question. Yes? No?” His lips parted in a quizzical grimace. “It feels differently depending on the quadrant, and depending on the _person_. How is it not that way for humans?”  
“I… I guess… It probably is,” Dave said uncertainly. “Honestly, I’ve never felt the way it is on TV about anyone, so…”  
“Huh,” said Karkat.

“But anyway,” said Dave, “Changing the subject to something unrelated to a burgeoning teenage identity crisis. I failed miserably at your dream stuff, but I’m gonna try again. I wrote it down and everything, and I’ve been doing the finger thing? The counting?”  
Karkat blinked at him. “I didn’t think you were really interested in it.”  
“What, no. I’m super into it,” said Dave. “I wouldn’t be all on your ass about it if I didn’t care. But listen, I noticed that you weren’t ‘there’ last night.”  
“No, I didn’t,” Karkat said flippantly.  
“Didn’t what?” asked Dave.  
Karkat shifted awkwardly. “Didn’t sleep.”  
“Oh.” Dave sat up. “Is that uh… A normal troll thing?”  
“Not really. It’s not a big deal though,” Karkat glanced away. “Do you… want me to, though?”  
“Want you to sleep?” asked Dave.  
“Want me to keep coming into your bubbles,” Karkat said sheepishly. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Eh,” said Dave. “It was kind of weird when I didn’t know you were there, but now. Well. Since you’re gonna be teaching me to do it, too, wouldn’t that be kind of a shortcut?”  
Karkat frowned. “Yeah, okay. If you’re really fine with it.”  
Dave shrugged. “I think it’d be pretty cool to just hang out, you know?”  
“…Yeah.” Karkat flashed him a timid smile that both looked and felt unnatural on his face. “I’m going to go change into some not-ruined clothes. But. I’ll see you tonight?”  
“Yeah, okay. We probably shouldn’t chill in bathrooms together, that’s how rumors start.” Dave snickered. “See ya later, Karkat.”

Dave lingered in the bathroom long after Karkat had gone, back at the sink and staring at his own reflection. The room smelled like blood.


	7. VI: Insight

Dave lay in bed with his eyes closed tight and his blanket pulled up over his head, praying to dead gods and eldritch abominations for his racing thoughts to give it a fucking rest, already. Today had not been one of his better days.

He regretted asking Karkat to meet him now that the moment had passed. At the time it had sounded fun, but now all he wanted to do was sleep for about forty years and not have to think about anything for a while. Or ever again, preferably. Stupid Rose, and stupid Karkat. They were ruining the whole appeal of sleep by turning it into something that had to be analyzed and toyed with.

Dave rolled over for about the thousandth time, curling his knees to his chest and adjusting his death grip on his pillow. He really _was_ excited for it though, despite his reservations. He was dying of boredom, and they weren’t even a fraction of the way through the trip. God, three years. They were going to be at this for _three years_ , and in months he’d already exhausted every combination of fucking around he could think of. How many hobbies did he even have? He hated all of them. He wasn’t any good at any of them and they all sucked anyway.

Music? Nobody cared, especially him. Drawing? Fuck, had he _ever_ actually enjoyed that? What had he even _done_ all day before all this? He remembered a bedroom full of junk, but couldn’t remember the appeal of all his photographs and trinkets. His makeshift “room” here was mostly empty, just a mattress, a small desk, and a lamp. He’d taped some shitty drawings to the wall during the first week, back when he thought they were funny, but then he hadn't even finished that. Most of them lay in a haphazard pile in the corner, with the changes of clothes he never wore and some other crap he’d emptied from his sylladex. He'd meant to organize it, four months ago. Now it had just become part of the scenery.

Dave picked up his pillow and squirmed around to lay at the other end of the bed. He hated this shitty lab. It was always cold and always quiet, but never _silent_. There was always something creaking or rustling or just generally being ominous. It had never been like this back home. There was always the sound of neighbors or birds or cars, no matter the time of day. He’d loathed it then, but he missed it now. It had been overwhelmingly shit, but fuck did he miss it.

“AaaaaaaaauuuUUUGH!” Dave shouted to the empty space, launching his pillow across the room. It hit one of the papers he’d taped to the wall, causing it to come free and flutter to the ground in a dramatic display like a leaf in an autumn breeze.

The air in here was so stagnant. It tasted like dust every time he breathed in, stale and heavy- and he never got used to the smell. He rolled on his stomach, folded his arms, and buried his face in them. Retrieving the pillow was a colossal task for some future Dave to deal with. His body felt too heavy to move. If dinosaurs had burst through the vents, he couldn’t have run from them. He’d just have to resign himself to being torn apart and devoured.

Dave wondered if he’d still revive if that happened. Raptor death didn’t sound particularly heroic or just, but he didn’t even know if all that stuff applied out here in literal nowhere.  Never mind how it would work if he was all, digesting in a dozen different guts or something. Probably… man, he didn’t even know.  But it had to be better than this ungodly agony of listlessness.

 

\---

 

The foliage rustled in an effervescent cascade of sunshine which filtered through their broad, jagged leaves. The air was heavy with the muggy scent of humidity, and Dave could feel the sweat trickling in steady streams down the back of his neck. He couldn’t see them anymore, but he could hear them tracking him from a distance. Never anything obvious, nothing that would give away their location, just the occasional rustle of leaves despite the still air, or the snap of a twig from behind him. They were playing with him, he knew. They thought this was an easy hunt.

Little did they know, Dave Strider didn’t go down that easily.  
He shifted his blade to one hand and mopped his sopping forehead with a sleeve.  
“Come on out, then,” he said, spreading his arms invitingly wide. “Come on, beasties. Let’s dance.”

A branch snapped loudly to his left as it swung back into place, disturbed by a creature’s passage. Dave swiveled to face it, his feet finding familiar form, knees and elbows bent and blade extended. He measured the distance with his eyes and mentally counted down the seconds in time with his deep, even breaths.

And then he lunged forward and swung, slicing through greenery as if it were air. But rather that meeting flesh and bone, his sword sunk deep into and embedded itself in thick bark. He cursed loudly and jumped back, abandoning it.

“What the fuck!” echoed his sentiments, but from an outside source. Karkat pushed his way through the bushes, the expression on his face one of disbelief and exasperated ire.  
“Oh shit,” said Dave. “Dinosaurs are extinct.”

Karkat stared at him with his hands balled into fists at his sides.  
“You rude hoofbeast’s ass,” he said, “Don’t invite me over, show up late, and then _assault_ me.”  
“Sorry,” said Dave. “I thought you were a velociraptor. Also I forgot that they were like, less than two feet tall.”  
“Whatever,” said Karkat. “Why are you so sweaty?”  
“Dude it’s like, ten thousand degrees,” Dave said incredulously.  
“Dave,” Karkat said calmly. “Think about it. Is it really?”

Dave did think about it. His skin prickled with damp chill, and suddenly the golden light that had seemed so exhaustingly temperate dulled into the gloomy, washed-out grey of an overcast November. Dave hugged his arms to his chest.  
“You’re in your respiteblock, asleep,” said Karkat. “The temperature isn’t actually changing, you’re just imagining that it is.”  
“Oh. Oh, yeah.” Dave frowned. “Man that fucking sucks, I piss ice cubes on that shitting meteor.”  
Karkat shrugged. “So… Big reveal. You’re dreaming.”  
“Yeah,” said Dave.  
Karkat raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to freak out?”  
“Nah,” said Dave. “I’m chill, dude. Just tell me how to like, do stuff. Pretty sure the dinosaurs disappeared, so now we’re just standing in a depressingly cold Cretaceous forest for no reason. Do I just tap my heels and say, ‘there’s no place like home’?”  
“What?” said Karkat.  
“Sorry. Wizord of Oz is what the refrance.”

“Oh my grubbing taint, I’m not stupid, Dave,” Karkat snapped. “I understood the ‘reference’ to the sub-standard human version of a film already perfected by my species eons before yours had stopped painting cave walls with your own bodily discharges. What are you _asking_? There’s nothing to _explain_.”  
“Whatever,” said Dave. “ _I’m_ really stupid, cuz I think there _is_ something to explain. Please dumb it down for poor human Dave.”  
Karkat heaved a heavy sigh and put a hand on his forehead. “Alright, turn on your think pan. Just smack your head on that big rock over there, maybe that’ll do the trick. Then, picture… wherever you’d like to be the most, and believe that you’re there.”  
“I just think about it and then it happens?” Dave asked dubiously.  
“ _No_!” Karkat snapped. “Listen to the words that I’m saying, I’m not talking just to hear my own voice.”  
“Could have fooled me.”  
Karkat ignored him. “You don’t just _think_ you’re there, you have to _know_ you’re there.” 

“Um.” Dave pursed his lips tightly. “…Okay, sure. Anywhere I want.”  
Dave closed his eyes. Anywhere. Shit, fuck. There were too many options. Wherever he’d like to be _most_ …  
He could hear the low whirr of a fan, and imagined he could feel it lightly tousling his hair. He was sitting in a worn desk chair and faint, tinny music was issuing from the headphones around his neck.  
“Well. I don’t know what I expected.”  
Dave opened his eyes. Karkat was standing in the center of the room with his arms folded, framed by the sweltering red glow of the nearby window. The discrepancy of Karkat, an alien from his “new” life, standing in his childhood bedroom made his stomach churn uncomfortably.  
“Eugh,” he said.

Karkat slowly considered the room, taking in his surroundings like an art curator inspecting for forgery.  
“It’s good, though,” Karkat said. “Yeah. Something you’re familiar with is probably better to start with.”  
“Auck,” said Dave. His eyes darted to the door, and then back to Karkat, unseen behind his shades.  
“Don’t get too comfy,” Dave forced out, nonchalant. “I’m just warming up.”  
“No, this is fine,” said Karkat.  
“Nooooo _oope_ ,” said Dave. “Nope, no. No. We’re going somewhere else. Troll Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”  
Dave covered his ears with his hands and squeezed his eyes firmly shut. He tried to think of somewhere else- _anywhere_ else, but the settings in his head fizzled out as fast as he could conjure them. A castle, or- the moon, or-

“What the actual fuck!” shouted Karkat.  
Dave opened his eyes to find himself standing on a white landing in a void of not _quite_ printer-perfect cyan.  
“Oh my god,” he said. He looked down the flight of steps below him, and had to cover his mouth to stifle his sudden uncontainable glee. “Karkat. Karkat. Karkat. Karkat!”  
“What!”  
“Karkat,” Dave said, grabbing Karkat’s shoulders. “Listen. Karkat. I gotta- I have to- warn you. About. The stairs, bro.”  
“What _is this_??”

Dave giggled deliriously. It was like his birthday and Christmas had come all at once, with maybe some other choice holidays thrown in for good measure.  
“Oh man, Karkat,” he said. “You need to meet me in the common room like the second we wake up, I have got some quality shit to show you.”  
“Dave, please,” Karkat said, narrowing his eyes and flashing his teeth. “What is this?”  
Dave let go of him to bury his face in the crook of his arm, trying and failing to stifle the waves of laughter.  
“The sweetest and hellaest place I could’ve brought us, man,” he managed, voice muffled by his sleeve.  
“It looks like sweet hell and fuckall,” Karkat grumbled.  
“No bro, no,” said Dave. “We’re in the first installment of my magnum opus, my dude.”  
“Your what?”  
“My webcomic!”

Karkat stared at him in disbelief, the corners of his mouth drawing further down the longer the moment dragged.  
“…You could be in any setting you could possibly dream of,” he said incredulously, “and you chose to be in a shitty webcomic?”  
“Yes,” said Dave gleefully. “The shittiest webcomic. Oh man, you’re gonna love it, I can’t _believe_ you haven’t seen it yet! It’s all old hat to my other friends.”  
Karkat stiffened. “I don’t know where you got the impression that we’re ‘friends.’”  
“Hey, what?” said Dave. “Of course we’re friends. You think I let just anyone roam around in my head? I’m not that kinda guy, Kat. When I cross the metaphysical boundary, it’s forever.”

Karkat scowled. “Did you just call me ‘cat’?”  
“Sure, why not?” said Dave. “Do trolls not do nicknames? Multiple syllables are just… so much work. We could do the first four letters instead, but ‘kark’ sounds like the noise you make when choking on a potato.”  
“Trolls do nicknames. _I_ don’t do nicknames,” Karkat said stiffly. “They are, without exception, incredibly stupid."  
“Haha, yeah,” said Dave. “I’m still using it though. Just to bother you.”  
“And I’m leaving,” said Karkat. He turned to trudge away down the stairs.

“Wait!” Dave said, reaching after him. “The stairs-“  
He took a step after him, and-

-immediately tripped.  
“Oh man,” said Dave as he fell, “Who could have ever seen this coming?”

 

\---

 

Dave landed with a thud off the side of his bed, with his legs still hanging over the mattress and tangled in blankets. He was laughing, and for a long time, he couldn’t stop.

 

\---

 

“I don’t get it,” Karkat admitted, squinting at Dave’s phone like it was some sort of magic gander bulb book, and if only he could find the right way to look at it, it would all suddenly make perfect sense.  
“See, you’re not really supposed to get it,” said Dave, gesticulating with his morning toast. “That’s part of the joke. If you look at it and think, ‘heh, yeah, I get it!’ then that makes you the real punchline.”  
“Oh,” said Karkat.

“Yeah, see,” said Dave, “It’s not about getting high and putting jelly on a hot dog. It’s commentary on the state of the creative industry, and the way consumers view innovation as something that can only come from an outside source- drugs, et cetera- as a way of stripping artists of their merit. But then, if anyone were to _say_ that to me, I’d tell them they were full of shit. You know why?”  
“Why?” Karkat asked, just to satisfy him.  
“Cuz it’s not about that, _either_ ,” Dave said excitedly. “It’s not about anything, and that’s the whole point. It’s about how life is pointless and nothing you ever do will even matter in a year, or ten years, or a thousand…”

“And,” Karkat frowned. “That’s funny?”  
“ _Yes_ ,” said Dave smugly. “So it’s about that. And then, it’s also about just how inherently funny it is to see some douche fall down the stairs for 26 consecutive panels.”  
Karkat snorted. “That I can get behind.”  
“Shitty drawings are just really funny.” Dave took a bite of his toast. “I guess trolls don’t really ‘get’ irony, but like, have you seen Terezi’s drawings? That’s some good shit. Top tier irony levels and she doesn’t even know it.”  
“Hm.”

Karkat shifted awkwardly and handed Dave’s phone back to him. Dave frowned and took it, pursing his lips.  
“If you think that’s bad,” Karkat said, avoiding his eyes. “You should see _my_ drawings.”  
“Holy shit,” Dave said, sitting up straighter. “Oh my dick, yes. Yesssss show me your drawings, I’ll kill a man if I have to.”  
“Well, I don’t have any with me.” Karkat’s eyes fell on one of Rose’s books, some sort of pretentiously bound and impossibly thick journal. “Do you have a pencil?”


	8. VII: Impulse

“I don’t know why I didn’t look here first,” said Karkat.

Kanaya left a finger trailing over the page to mark her place, and then looked up from her book to smile welcomingly up at him. She sat in the embrace of a sunken, high-backed velvet chair tucked into a musty corner of one of the meteor’s many libraries. This one was by far the largest, and if he hadn’t known this to be one of her favored hiding places, Karkat could have roamed the isles for hours and never found her.

“I was not aware that you were looking for me,” she said mildly. “Did you message me?”  
“Yeah, no.” Karkat shrugged, gazing impassively at a space to her right rather than directly at her. “I didn’t want to bother you. Whoops. Look at that, here I am, bothering you.”  
Kanaya frowned. She put a marker in her book, closed it, sat it aside. Then she scooted over to one side of the massive chair, and patted the empty space beside her invitingly.  
“There is no bother, I am simply passing time until a scheduled meeting,” she said carefully. “How… How are you, Karkat?” 

Karkat ignored the gesture and instead pulled a wooden chair from a nearby table, slumping into it with his arms folded over the back.  
“Not great, but it’s fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Why do we all still do that, anyway? Rely on that awful musclebeast’s tit of a communication system, I mean. Here we all are, living up the crack of each other’s sit mounds, and we’ve all uniformly decided to conduct the vast majority of our affairs squinting at screens rather than looking each other in the face or even sharing the same _room_ with each other for longer than it takes to shove our meal tunnels full. Why is that?”

Kanaya shuffled uncomfortably to occupy the whole chair again, trying to pass it off as just shifting to get more comfortable.  
“I hate that,” Karkat continued, none the wiser. “What’s so wrong with all of us- myself included- that we feel the need to do that? Or. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me.”  
“I…” Kanaya looked away, and then back, widening her eyes. “I was not aware that it offended you.”  
“I guess it doesn’t. Just. Ugh!” Karkat’s head fell forward to rest on his arms.  
“Is this perhaps… not really about that?” Kanaya offered.

“She won’t answer me!” Karkat said, throwing up his arms and making the chair wobble threateningly. “I’ve been messaging her since yesterday but she just ignores me like… like she doesn’t even care. Probably because she doesn’t, so I don’t know why I even bother, but. It feels so disingenuous to just thrash out a stupid apology, hit send, and just… wait. What are you even supposed to do? Carry on with your day like the judicial fucking bang knob isn’t hovering over your shame globes? I don’t know. Half of me wants to gripe that it was easier when I didn’t have to worry about meeting her on the way to the ablution room, but the other part of me knows that’s hoofbeast manure and that it was never easy.”

Kanaya hummed softly.  
“I know it is difficult,” she said, “but I am afraid there is no choice but to wait for her to come to you on her own terms.”  
Karkat sank back onto the chair. His hands worried at the wooden frame, clenching and unclenching.  
“I don’t think she’s _going_ to come to me, on any terms. I think she’s _done_ , Kanaya, in fact,” he slouched even lower, until he was practically hanging off the back of the chair. “I know she is. In any other context, this’d be it. But as long as we’re on the same rock plunging toward the same suicide mission, we can’t just avoid each other for the next sweep. …Can we?” 

Kanaya couldn’t tell if he sounded hopeful or heartbroken. She didn’t know which words to offer him, or if there were any that would even help.  
“It may take time,” she began hesitantly, “but I believe things will work out.”  
“ _Things_ will _work out_. Yeah, sure,” Karkat grumbled. “My itching pupa pustules they’ll _work out_. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but nothing _ever_ just ‘works out’ for me. It starts at rock bottom and then somehow _still_ manages to burrow infinitely lower. It’s one of my few talents, the way I always go above and beyond the line of duty when fucking up. I’m still waiting for my trophy and letter of condemnation from the Empress, Her Imperious Condescension herself. She’ll have it artfully engraved, ‘Karkat Vantas: Exceeds Expectations.’”

“Karkat,” Kanaya tried, but he ignored her.  
“Maybe I should just stop caring,” he rambled on. “Seems like it’s going really well for the rest of you. But I must have been absent for that day of mandatory indoctrination because I missed a vital lesson on cold hearted apathy toward people who were supposedly your friends?”   
“I think-“ she tried again.  
“But, whatever,” Karkat said, talking over her. “I don’t know what I expected. _There_ was my real mistake, expecting anything to begin with. Are you taking notes, because I really think we’re gaining headway here on The Deep Personal Failings of Karkat.”

“I hate to interrupt what is obviously a very engaging and mutually beneficial conversation,” came a voice from behind him, and Karkat spun around in his chair. “But you _are_ aware this is a library, right?”

Karkat flashed his teeth like a startled animal, which Rose politely ignored. She strolled past him to lean against the arm of Kanaya’s chair. The shift in Kanaya’s attention was as immediate as it was infuriating.  
“I think I’ve finally found what we’ve been looking for,” Rose was saying to Kanaya, but all Karkat could focus on was the way Kanaya’s eyes never left Rose’s lips as she spoke.

Karkat stood abruptly and shoved his own chair unceremoniously to the ground. It thumped weakly onto the rug, which only made him feel worse instead of better.  
“Fuck your library, and also, fuck you,” Karkat said, and then he turned and stormed off.

Even from several isles away, he could hear Kanaya’s muted apologies to Rose. He wished, more than anything, that he could block them out.

 

\---

 

Karkat sat with his back to one empty test tube and facing another, staring with unfocused eyes at the foamy bubbles that floated in frozen layers throughout the green-tinted, slightly gelatinous goop. The room reeked of stagnation, but he couldn’t leave now even if he’d had the ambition in him to move.  
He’d sent a message about an hour ago, just a single line at the bottom of an ever-growing mountain of grey text that probably no one would ever read.

“IF YOU EVER CARED ABOUT ME AT ALL, MEET ME IN THE UNUSED LAB ACROSS FROM THE MAIN LIBRARY.”

And with that sentence he’d sealed the lid on his tomb. He was destined to rot away in this stinking room, where probably no one would ever find the body, mainly because no one would even _look_.

So it was with unparalleled surprise that he heard, at long last, the scraping sound of unused hinges swinging open. Karkat sat frozen, unsure what to do, how to act, how to _feel-_ he hadn’t thought the meeting through this far. It had been a mad shot in the dark made in a fit of desperation and he _really_ hadn’t expected his ultimatum to work-

-because of course, it hadn’t.

“Oh,” Karkat said, frowning at the bundle of discolored fabric and glistening black carapace that stood before him. “Um. Hi, er… ‘The Mayor.’”  
The carapacian, whom he had never actually spoken to before their odd and informal ‘introduction’ several nights previously, plopped down next to him like it was the most natural thing in the world and tilted his head back to look at him with a single glistening eye.  
“Augh, you don’t want to sit there,” said Karkat. “You’ll get jealous, bitter asshole juices all over your nice, um. Sash.”

But the Mayor just kicked his feet out and made himself comfy, like they were sitting under the lush branches of a fruit tree on a temperate afternoon rather than against a jar that had probably once housed some sort of ghastly, mutated creature. He blinked at Karkat expectantly.  
“Um, no offense,” Karkat started awkwardly. “But will you go away? I’m ruminating in self-hatred.”  
The Mayor continued to ignore his protests, except to reach out and tug at his sleeve.  
“I don’t have anything for you,” Karkat grumbled. “Do… Do you even understand me?"

The Mayor tilted his head, blinked, and nodded once.  
“Yeah, okay,” said Karkat. “It’s just that the other carapacians I’ve known were a lot more stabby and opinionated.”  
The Mayor nodded again, shrugged, and then leaned back against the test tube. Karkat sighed.  
“Yeah,” he said. “So… I guess you’re all alone here. Did you have friends or family before this?”

The Mayor shook his head intently, and gestured toward what Karkat had assumed to be a mote of dust- but was, on closer inspection, a tiny firefly. He held up both his hands, and then closed them. Then he raised three fingers, before slowly lowering them one at a time.  
“…Yeah,” said Karkat. “I used to have a lot of friends. At least, I thought I did. But…” Karkat paused. “… Can I tell you something think-pan numbingly inane?”

The Mayor looked at him questioningly, and then nodded.  
“I had a lot of friends,” Karkat repeated. “I claimed to have had a lot of best friends, even. But I’ve never been anyone’s ‘first choice,’ ever, not really. Probably because I’m fundamentally unlikable. Still. It feels… pretty shitty.”

Silent as ever, The Mayor wrapped both his arms around one of Karkat’s and hugged tightly- and, to his surprise, Karkat felt no urge to pull away.

“It’s a really stupid, selfish, shallow thing,” Karkat mumbled. “I don’t know why I can’t just appreciate what I have. But Kanaya has Rose now, and before that she had Vriska. Sollux always had Aradia, and even Gamzee always prioritized his stupid religion over his friends. And now there’s Dave… But even if we end up best bulge buddies over the next sweep, it’ll never compare to what he has with John, Jade, and Rose. So… I don’t know why I even try. I’m so, so tired of never amounting to anything but second best, even on my best days. And… I don’t have a lot of best days.”

The Mayor patted his shoulder reassuringly. Karkat’s eyes drifted half-closed.

“I know there’s no way you give a hoofbeast-rutting fuck about my stupid personal problems- _I_ can barely make myself care about them,” Karkat said apologetically, “but if I didn’t heave that wormbile somewhere I’d probably keep knocking over furniture like a petulant wiggler and embarrassing the last of my friends until she finally stopped putting up with my obnoxious shit. So… Thanks, I guess.”

Karkat turned and wrapped his free arm lopsidedly around The Mayor’s narrow shoulders and gave him a brief hug before pulling away.  
“Anyway,” he said.

And then the door creaked open again.

“Oh, the Mayor’s here,” Terezi said, and she plopped down on Karkat’s other side.

For a moment Karkat was too flustered to say anything at all, and then he sputtered, “How does everyone know The Mayor except me!?”  
“How do you _not know_ the Mayor?” Terezi gasped.  
“You know me,” said Karkat. “How would I possibly know where ‘the loop’ even _is_ without a blind girl to guide me to it?”  
Terezi snorted and threw an arm around Karkat’s shoulders in a crooked hug.

“I didn’t see any of your messages until about fifteen minutes ago,” she explained. “I was asleep.”  
“Oh,” said Karkat, and then, “Ohhhhh. That… makes sense.”  
“Of course I care about you, you dumb asshole,” Terezi said, hugging him again, this time with both arms. “I’ve just been…”

She leaned back, and sighed.  
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said, after a long pause. “But thank you for trying, I know it’s not easy for you to do that. It’s not… anything you did, or didn’t do. It’s. Me. I’ve been… I haven’t been very fun to be around, lately. So. I haven’t been around.”  
“What?” said Karkat. “That’s stupid. I can’t imagine you _not_ being fun.”  
“I know,” said Terezi. “Like I said.”

Karkat stared at his knees. He was thankful for the reassuring weight of The Mayor’s hand on his sleeve to distract him from the ache of Terezi’s presence.  
“So… so then,” he said slowly. “Are… are we still friends? Can we still be… something?”  
“I…” Terezi drew in a deep breath. “Of course we are. Best friends. Always have been, always will be. Which is why I hope that you’ll understand when I say that…” she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and then tried again. “That I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good friend lately, and that… I’ll probably keep not being a very good friend. For a while, at least. There’s just some things I have to figure out, about myself. But I really do care about you, and. I never stopped.”

Karkat nodded stiffly, but couldn’t find it in himself to speak past the growing lump in his throat.  
Terezi threw her arms around him and squeezed so tightly it hurt. Karkat hugged her back, and basked in the smell of her hair and her weight against his chest.  
This felt like a goodbye. Maybe it was.  
And then she slipped away.

“I miss you,” Karkat choked.  
“I know,” Terezi said, and she stood up. “I’m really, really sorry. But Karkat. …Stop blaming yourself.”

 

\---

 

“So I’ve thought about it a lot,” said Dave. He sat next to Karkat on the couch with his feet propped up on a small coffee table and a bowl of chips in his lap. “And I really think we’re gonna accomplish something tonight, for real this time. I’ve got it all worked out- something simple, but also fun. A real, classic adventure.”

“Uh huh,” Karkat said distantly, hunched over his crabtop. Dave risked the occasional glance over at his screen, but whatever he was doing- Reading? Writing? -it was all in those squiggly troll letters that meant nothing to him.

“You okay, dude?” Dave asked him.  
Karkat spared a glare up at him, but he didn’t look angry. He just looked tired.  
“I live in a constant state of pants-wetting euphoria,” Karkat grumbled.  
“…Yeah,” said Dave. “Me too.”


	9. VIII: Knights

“Fucking finally,” Dave said, leaning on the hilt of his broadsword and causing it to sink several inches into loamy farm soil. He put a hand on his hip and lifted his visor to frown at Karkat expectantly.  
“Please tell me you’re not wearing sunglasses underneath a helmet,” Karkat said, crossing his arms. “Oh, no, would you look at that. That is exactly the thing that you are doing.”  
“Yeah, whatever,” said Dave. “That’s my _image_ , Karkat, it’s important. It’s like a brand, only instead of serving a capitalist agenda it serves the fact that for all you know, I literally sleep with the glasses on and there’s no way you’ll ever prove that I don’t.”  
Karkat snorted. “Whatever you say, freak.” 

“More importantly,” said Dave. “I’ve been waiting for you for about six bazillion hours. I’ve driven the level one wolves to extinction already, and the farmer’s wife suspects an affair because I keep coming back to sell him the pelts.”  
“Um, good job?” said Karkat.  
“ _Yeah_ , good job,” said Dave. “Drumroll, dickhead, I did the thing. Off screen and uncelebrated by your late as fuck ass. Do you ever think that this is maybe a foolish hobby for insomniacs?”

“Uh…” Karkat paused to think. He squinted around at the scenery, but it was almost disappointingly simplistic. An earth home nestled in a clearing with a fenced in plot of land, surrounded by an expanse of forest. Definitely nothing impressive, considering what he’d seen in Dave’s dreams before, except that… “Oh- oh! Good job, you did the dream walking thing all by yourself. I am so proud, now can we talk about this crock of shit I am looking at right now with my very own two vision orbs?”

Dave tsked dismissively.  
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked. “It’s just the first area, I’ve got better things planned for later.”  
“It’s fine, but it’s…” Karkat hummed. “You keep doing this, Dave. I’ve opened the doorway for you to go literally anywhere, and you keep coming back with ‘another setting where Dave hits things with his sharp stick until they die.’ This is, what. A fantasy adventure with some vaguely video game-esque rules? Isn’t that _exactly_ what our real lives already are?”

“Here’s an idea,” said Dave. “When we go to Karkat Land in Karkat’s head, _Karkat_ can pick the theme and we’ll play anime dating sims or whatever all night long.”  
“We’re not going into Karkat’s head,” Karkat said firmly.  
“There you go,” said Dave. “Let’s get that written out and notarized by The Mayor. We’ll file it under ‘Karkat forfeits his right to complain.’”  
Karkat snorted. “Alright, if this is what you really want. I just thought you’d be tired of playing mercenary.”

“I don’t know what you expect from me, Karkat,” Dave said, flicking his visor back down. “I told you, _image_. I know my niche. It’s nice here, it’s familiar. I know what I’m about, so why should I change?”  
“I guess.” Karkat shrugged. “But you’ve never looked very happy holding a sword.”  
“…Anyway,” said Dave. “It’s time for a quest. Straight basics, slay a dragon, rescue a princess. I’m the knight, you’re the squire, let’s go.”

Dave hefted his sword up out of the ground, wiping it lazily on his pant leg before sheathing it. Then he strode off triumphantly in the direction of the woods.  
“Excuse you?” Karkat said, his feet still firmly planted in the dirt. “Eat shit, I’m not being your squire.”  
Dave sighed and turned around, squelching back over to him through the mud.  
“Karkat don’t be difficult. We can’t both be the knight and it’s my dream.”  
“Why not?” said Karkat. “Like you said, it’s your dream.”  
“Because… That’s not how it works.”  
“I’m not being your squire, you entitled ass,” Karkat complained. “I am literally also a knight. You’re a knight. I’m a knight. We’re both knights, and there’s two knights now. Problem solved.” 

“ _Fine_ ,” said Dave exasperatedly. “There’s now a chest in the woods full of knight stuff for the other knight who is also a knight. Happy?”  
“I am absolutely oozing elation fluid, yes,” said Karkat smugly.  
“And a towel, I guess. Gross.”

 

\---

 

“So who’s the princess?” Karkat asked as they trudged along through the forest, clanking loudly in the metal armor that neither of them knew how to walk in properly.  
“I dunno, just a princess,” grumbled Dave. “It doesn’t matter.”  
“Come on,” Karkat said knowingly. “It’s never _just_ a princess. It’s always people you know, or at least people you’ve seen.”  
“Except for this time when it’s just a princess.”  
“It’s Jade, isn’t it? It’s always Jade.” 

Dave stopped walking and Karkat, following behind him, slammed unceremoniously into his back with a sound like a gong.  
“Motherfuck,” said Karkat, staggering back. “I can’t believe you, stop making it Jade.”  
“Chill, dude,” said Dave. “It’s my dream, Jade’s the princess. This isn’t debatable.”  
“Dave, no,” Karkat complained. “I can’t _stand_ your Jade.”  
“ _My_ Jade,” Dave repeated incredulously.  
“Don’t say that like it’s not a thing because it definitely is a thing,” Karkat scoffed. “You have a Jade, and your Jade is a _wreck._ I swear it’s like you’ve never even _met_ Jade.”

“Because you’re a Jade expert,” Dave said back over his shoulder. “I knew her for years and years and you knew her for like, a day.”  
“I _know_ ,” said Karkat, widening his eyes cartoonishly. He stomped around in front of him so he could drill a look of disappointed ire straight into his eyes- or at least, straight into his helmet-visor-and-sunglasses. “That’s why it blows my think pan how you keep summoning up this waifish caricature who exists solely to laugh at your jokes, listen to your exposition dumps, and get _rescued_. Dave, when did Jade Harley ever need rescued from anything?”

“Well,” said Dave. “Well… Well that’s not the _point_ , Karkat. Obviously I know Jade is just as capable as… well, okay, probably _way_ more capable than me. That’s just the way the narrative structure works, we have to slay the dragon to rescue the princess. If there’s not a princess, what’s the point?”  
“Do you even hear the words that come out of your idiot hole?” said Karkat. “This morning you were showing me your deconstructive commentary on the nature of art, or whatever, and now you’re trying to tell me you care about the sanctity of an antiquated narrative structure?”

“Um,” said Dave. “That… That is… a really good point, fuck you.”  
“Thank you,” said Karkat.  
Dave took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm so that he could run his fingers through his hair. He left it sticking up everywhere in an elaborate display of helmet head that easily rivalled the mating displays of several exotic birds.  
“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just… easy? Shit, though, that’s a terrible excuse. I guess it’s just that. I don’t really…” Dave took a deep breath, and heaved it out in a sigh. “I don’t really know what to be if I’m not trying to be a hero? Like, shit. It’s no new revelation that I’m a sorry excuse for one. But when it comes to anything else… I just don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, that’s…” Karkat trailed off. “Hm.”  
“Hm,” agreed Dave.

 

\---

 

“What,” Karkat wheezed, as they scrambled up over yet another otherwise untraversable mound of volcanic debris, “is your obsession with _walking_ , anyway?”  
“I don’t know how to ride a horse?” said Dave, standing on the tips of his toes to reach an overhang.  
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said Karkat. He put a hand on Dave’s shoulder blade to hold him steady as he heaved himself up onto the ledge. Then Dave leaned down and offered a hand to help him up in turn. “We could fly, just a little bit. Just over this part.”  
“That sounds like quitter talk,” said Dave. “I didn’t build us no dream volcano so that you could _fly_ over it. It’s about the _journey_ , Karkat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Karkat, “But aren’t journeys supposed to have more… stuff? Puzzles to solve, or… We haven’t even fought anything in a while.”  
“It’s the calm before the storm,” said Dave. “We’re almost there.” 

They travelled in silence for a while, save for their quiet panting of breath and the occasional frustrated grunt as they edged along a narrow precipice.  
And then Dave said, “I think it’s kind of nice.”  
“What is?” Karkat said distractedly.  
“Just walking,” said Dave. “Just… walking with someone. I think this might be the first time I’ve ever done it.”  
“Huh,” said Karkat. “You and Rose don’t walk around the lab?”  
“Me and Rose…” Dave stopped to lean back against the cliff face. “Hey man, get a load of this.”

Karkat rolled his eyes and slouched over next to him, ignoring the obvious change of subject.  
“…Wow,” he said, his eyes going wide. The forest, which had seemed unremarkable from the ground, now spread across the horizon in a sea of shimmering emerald leaves.  
“Right?” said Dave, with a flash of a grin. “Pretty good considering I’d never seen a forest in person before Sburb.”  
“See, this,” said Karkat. Slowly, he sank to the ground. “This is what I’m talking about, Dave. Your attention to detail is _amazing_.”  
“Landscapes are cool,” said Dave. “I used to get National Geographics from the library for the boobies, but then also that shit’s just really awesome.” 

“Earth… seems like it was okay,” said Karkat wistfully. “Obviously it has nothing on Alternia, but that goes without saying.”  
“Yeah, it was pretty baller,” said Dave. “Do you miss your planet a lot?”  
“So fucking much,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. “We all complained about it constantly, of course. We acted like we hated it there and couldn’t wait to grow up and get away into the stars, but I… I don’t know.” Karkat frowned. “I guess. Maybe I appreciated it more, because part of me never believed I ever _would_ leave Alternia.”  
“Why not?” said Dave, and Karkat had to turn his head to stare up at him.

“Where do you _live_ , Dave?” he asked finally. “Where do your thoughts even happen, I don’t even. I’m- I have- I’m a-… ‘Cullbait’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.”  
“And I have no idea what that means,” Dave said with a shrug.  
“For fuck’s sake, pick up a book,” Karkat snapped.  
“I would _love_ to sample your classy troll ponography,” Dave said, “but I can’t read your space runes. You should teach me.”  
“Oh,” said Karkat. “Yeah, okay. You really want to… I can do that.”  
“ _Thank_ you,” said Dave. Finally, he abandoned his cool standing pose and plopped down to Karkat’s level.

“What do you know about the hemospectrum?” Karkat asked, reluctantly.  
“I know… basically nothing,” said Dave. “You guys have different colored blood and that matters for some reason, that’s it, that’s all I know.”  
“ _Wow_ ,” said Karkat. Dave shrugged.  
“I’m an ignorant babe lost in the woods. Feed me your knowledge, I’m starving for troll fun facts.”  
“Well, okay. …Fun fact,” said Karkat. “Nobody has candy red blood on Alternia. Literally nobody except me. I’m not even _on_ the hemospectrum. Basically, me living past my wriggling day was completely unprecedented. That’s all you have to know.”

Dave reached out awkwardly to pat his shoulder, and Karkat flinched away.  
“What about you?” Karkat said tepidly. “Do you miss Earth?”  
Dave shrugged. “…Nah.”  
“Why not?”  
“I dunno.” Dave quirked a thoughtful frown. “Most of it’s the fact that, functionally, my entire world came into the game with me. I didn’t really get out much. Like I said, I never saw a forest or any lakes or any of the shit that made Earth good. And I never felt like I _belonged_ there- for good reason I guess, cuz I literally didn’t?”  
“…Yeah,” said Karkat.  
“Yeah,” Dave repeated.

Karkat cleared his throat. “We should probably keep walking if we want to slay that dragon before you get load gaper summons.”  
Dave snickered. “I hope load gaper summons come in formal envelopes.”

 

\---

 

The dragon’s nose twitched in his sleep, flooded suddenly by the scent of intruders on his Master’s territory. His ears drew firmly back against his skull and his lips curled back, acidic green saliva dripping copiously from his open maw. He sniffed once, twice, and then took wing.

“-Oh hey,” said Dave, as the shadow passed over them, “I found the dragon.”  
“Good job,” said Karkat warily, backing up a step. “So we probably should have talked about this earlier… How, exactly, are we slaying it?”  
“I dunno, man, you’re a knight too,” Dave said carelessly. “Your guess is as good as mine.”  
“You have got to be-“

The ground shook as the dragon slammed to the earth in front of them. He stretched his wings out in an impressive display of shimmering white membranes before folding them along his back and taking one heavy step toward them, cracking the ground under his weight. The force of his rumbling breath was like a gust of wind, and drool dribbled lazily from between his teeth, the smallest of which were easily as long as Dave or Karkat themselves.

“-kidding me.”  
“It’s fine,” said Dave. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”  
“We get to experience being eaten before we wake up?” Karkat offered.  
“Ehh.” Dave took a step forward, covering his nose against the onslaught of the beast’s horrendous breath. “I dunno, Karkat, he looks nice.”

Dave drew his blade. He raised it in the air triumphantly-  
-and then tossed it, as hard as he could, off the side of the volcano.  
“Fetch,” he said.

Karkat yelped and clung to Dave’s shoulders to keep from being blown away by the sheer force of the beast’s speed as it barreled past them.  
“I think you’re right,” Dave said, laughing, “This is much funner without the sword.”

 

\---

 

“So...” Karkat said, as they scaled the many spiral steps inside the golden tower. “Was that the plan all along, then? Are you just fucking with me?”  
“Nah, bro,” said Dave, “That became the plan like… fifteen seconds before I did it.”  
Karkat snickered and put his hands over his face. “I can’t believe you.” 

Dave hesitated at the top of the stairwell, with his palms pressed to the door.  
“So, um…” he said awkwardly, “how disappointed would you be if maybe there… wasn’t a princess?”  
Karkat blinked at him. “What do you mean?”  
“Well, I mean…” Dave shrugged. “I was thinking more about it on the way here, and I think. Well. I feel really weird about the idea of controlling another person, even if they’re not real. You know? Especially since I do have some hang-ups with Jade, I guess.”

Karkat laughed. “So we came all this way for no reason?”  
“Yeah…” Dave shot him an apologetic smile. “But it was still fun, right?”  
Dave pushed open the door out onto the roof of the spire, and stepped outside into the radiant orange glow of the distant sunset. Karkat smiled back and followed him out.  
“What were today’s goals again? Slay the dragon? Rescue the princess?”  
“Whatever,” said Dave. He leaned against the banister. “This view, though.”

The golden rays of light seemed to catch on the lines of Dave’s face, highlighting his hair and skin in brilliant gold relief. Karkat put his hands on the railing.  
“Yeah,” he said. “So…”  
“So.”  
Karkat fidgeted. “So you and Jade. The real Jade. Were you ever… Did you ever human date?”

Dave turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, frowning.  
“Nah. Well. I dunno, sort of.” He shrugged dismissively. “She kissed me once, but I was dead so, I’m not sure if it counts?”  
“Oh no way,” said Karkat firmly. “Dead kisses don’t count.”  
“Hahaha, why, who’d you dead kiss?” Dave asked, smirking.  
Karkat stiffened. “That. Is absolutely none of your business.”  
“Oh my god, who did you dead kiss?” Dave said, inching closer to him expectantly. “Tell me. Who was it? Was it Vriska?”  
“I would rather _die_!”  
“Hahahahaha tell me, tell me, tell me.”

Karkat looked down at his hands. For a moment he swore he could taste her blood on his lips again.  
“Kanaya,” he mumbled.  
“Oh wow,” said Dave. “You and Kanaya.”  
Karkat looked up at him, and then away again.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“What, she’s nice.” Dave shrugged. “You wouldn’t date Kanaya?”

Karkat sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead.  
“I’ve known Kanaya for most of my life, Dave,” he said. “For one thing… You are massively oversimplifying the way troll relationships work.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” said Dave. “Quadrants whatever.”  
“For another, Kanaya doesn’t…” Karkat raised his eyebrows significantly. “I guarantee you, she has little to no interest in concupiscent relations with a male troll.”

“Back the fuck up,” said Dave. “So trolls _do_ have gays?”  
“Well there isn’t a word for things like that, that’s stupid,” said Karkat. “That would be like having a word for people who prefer teal bloods. Troll Romance is intricate enough without imposing your quaint human categories onto it.”  
Dave laughed. “Now that you say that though, I totally see it. Oh man, I bet she has a thing for Rose. Poor Kanaya.”  
“Wait, why poor Kanaya?”  
“Well Rose isn’t gay,” Dave said like it was obvious.

“Bugwinged fucking mothergrub, Dave,” Karkat said exasperatedly.  
“Well she’s not!” Dave said, putting up his hands. “I think I would know if Rose was gay, bro.”  
Karkat gave a long, drawn out sigh. “Sure, Dave.”  
“But anyway,” said Dave. “What about one of the other ones. Like the extra best friends one, more rails. Moy reels. Would you Moray Eel Kanaya?”  
“Dave,” Karkat said tersely. “Every consecutive word that oozes from your seed flap is so beyond offensive that I don’t even know what to say.”  
“Would you, though?”

Karkat pressed his fingers to his temples. “Okay, where do I even start. There isn’t an ‘extra best friends’ quadrant. There’s four _romantic_ quadrants. A moirallegiance is still a romantic relationship. The implication that romance is inherently tied to sexuality is part of _your_ human baggage and is frankly disgusting and vastly undervalues and trivializes the significance of a moirallegiance.”  
“Sure,” said Dave. “But would you, though. Would you soul-mate soul-date Kanaya?”

“ _Dave_ ,” Karkat said, covering his face. “I don’t know. There’s not a funny banter way to answer that question. I don’t know how it is for humans, but trolls only have _one_ Matesprit, _one_ Moirail, et cetera. You don’t have a moirail, and then ‘break up’ and get a ‘new’ moirail. You _mistook_ someone for your Moirail who wasn’t. So I can’t just tell you definitively that Kanaya is or isn’t my Moirail. I don’t know. She’s my best friend, and I love her a lot. So. Maybe? I don’t know. And after…” Karkat sighed. “Well. I guess there’s no point in being coy about it. After Terezi. I don’t want to think about filling quadrants for a while.”

“Um, wow,” Dave said, and Karkat looked up, ready to be mad at him. But it wasn’t a mocking expression on Dave’s face. “You really care about this stuff, don’t you?”  
“I guess,” Karkat grumbled.  
“That’s actually sort of adorable?” Karkat frowned at him, but didn’t answer, so Dave continued, “I think… They’re pretty lucky. Whoever your matesproils are.”

Karkat snorted. “Thanks, Dave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fanart](http://kikis-delivery.tumblr.com/post/143470890849/so-i-read-this-rly-good-davekat-fic-and-there-was) by [kikis-delivery](http://kikis-delivery.tumblr.com/)!


	10. IX: Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important tag update.

“Oh good, you’re both here already. That does make this easier.”  
“Can it wait?” Dave said, without looking up. He was hunched over the table with a marker in each hand, scribbling furiously over a sheet of poster board. Karkat was likewise occupied, sitting across from him, gripping a pen tightly in his fist and etching out vague shapes.  
“I suppose there’s no reason it can’t,” Rose said flippantly, “Except that you’re already the last to know. Ah, but they do say ignorance is bliss. I’ll just leave you to it.”  
Dave sighed in exasperation and capped his pens. “Alright. Here’s a dozen of my most valuable seconds, thrill me.”  
Rose stifled a giggle with her hand.  
“Just take these,” she said, offering him two purple envelopes in an extended hand. “All you have to do is show up.”

Dave frowned at the envelopes, but took them anyway, sliding one over the table to Karkat. Rose gave them a light wave and dismissed herself to go join Kanaya on the couch across the room.  
“What even,” Dave said, turning envelope over in his hands. It was unmarked, save for a name scrawled in Rose’s telltale curly handwriting. “Aw man, swap me, I gave you mine.”  
“I don’t think it matters,” mumbled Karkat. He’d already pried the innards from his envelope and was inspecting them carefully, spread open in his hands. It looked, as far as Dave could tell, like some sort of formal invitation, like to a wedding or something. Dave shrugged and opened the envelope labeled ‘Karkat.’

“Cordially invited, blah blah blah,” he read aloud, “Dinner, blah, blah blah, tonight? Haha, okay.”  
“Wow, what a terrible idea,” said Karkat. “Trust me, you _never_ want that many trolls in a room together.”  
“Yikes,” said Dave. “Alright. Real talk, what do you think this is really about? Because I’ll tell you what, you can’t spell ‘ulterior motives’ without ‘r-o-s-e.’”  
“Wow, what a technically correct but otherwise meaningless observation,” said Karkat, squinting at him. “How should I know? Rose was Kanaya’s project, not mine.”  
“Ohhh, I wonder if she’s involved.” Dave stroked his chin thoughtfully. “A dinner party is a little more _domestic_ than you’d usually expect from Rose. Hmm.”

“Hmm,” repeated Karkat. He clicked his pen and returned dismissively to his drawing.  
“Hmm.” Dave still held the invitation in his hand. He traced the relief on the letters with an idle finger. “So are you going then?”  
“Uck,” was all Karkat said.  
“Yeah.” Dave frowned. “I don’t know, I guess I’m going. I mean. I kind of have to? Rose definitely expects me to, and I do kind of owe her for some things. But, I don’t know.”  
Dave leaned on his elbow with his chin propped in his hand, and for a moment he just watched Karkat adding detail lines to something that was _probably_ a building.

“I think,” Dave continued cautiously, “it would be less agonizing if you were there.”  
Karkat stopped drawing. He paused to look up at Dave, and then back down at his hands.  
“Yeah, right,” he said bitterly. “I’m a riot at social gatherings. One wrong move and I flip the table and start vomiting expletives.”  
“Haha, yeah, you do do that,” Dave said with a wry smile. “Honestly though, some tables are just begging to be flipped.”  
Karkat shrugged.

“But seriously,” Dave said. His voice had taken on a clumsy, hesitant tone that was very unlike him. “Would you come with me? This is, okay, this is a really weird thing to say, but. I don’t know. When we hang out, I just feel more _grounded_. You know? And I’m not so big on crowds.”  
“Um…” Karkat clicked his pen a few times. “I guess? Sure, I’ll go. I mean, I got the impression Rose might strangle me in my sleep if I don’t.”  
Dave snickered. “Yep, that’s what I call the _Rose Experience_.”

Dave tossed the invitation down on the table, and uncapped his markers.  
“Thanks, dude,” he said.  
“Yeah, whatever,” said Karkat.

 

\---

 

“This was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?” Rose said miserably.  
Kanaya hesitated answering, continuing her task of laying out silverware around the table.  
“I believe,” she said cautiously, “your heart is in the right place. If anyone can pull it off, it would be you.”  
“You’re too kind,” Rose said, with a mock gesture to cover up an imaginary blush. She sank into a chair at the head of the table, and uncorked a bottle.

First to arrive was Karkat, looking out of place and suitably uncomfortable to find himself alone in a room with Rose and Kanaya. He wordlessly situated himself at the far end of the table and immediately uncaptchalogued his crabtop.  
They were joined shortly by the Scourge Sisters, who waltzed into the room with their arms around each other’s shoulders and fell into place at the left side of the table, across from Kanaya.

And then, making agonizing small talk to pass the time, they waited for Dave.

Rose shot Karkat an accusatory glance.  
“What?” he said blandly, glancing up from his screen.  
“He _is_ coming, isn’t he?” Rose asked impatiently.  
“How should I know?” said Karkat.  
“Well,” Rose said, raising her eyebrows like it should be obvious, “You have been spending more time with him lately than the rest of us combined.”  
“That’s an egregious exaggeration,” Karkat said dismissively, “but if you’re asking my _opinion_ , yes, I do think he’ll show.”  
Rose sighed and poured another glass.

Fifteen minutes fashionably late, the transportalizer finally whirred to life.  
Dave turned dramatically and stepped off, flipping his cape out behind him.  
“The party has arrived,” he said, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  
“How cute,” said Vriska. “He thinks he’s the party.”  
“Not _me_ ,” Dave said patiently. The Mayor peeked out sheepishly from behind him. “ _Somebody_ forgot to invite the most important member of the crew? What the hell you guys.”

He put a hand on The Mayor’s shoulder and led him over to the table. The carapacian plopped down in between Karkat and Kanaya, while Dave took the chair on Karkat’s other side. Kanaya jumped up to grab an extra set of dishes.  
“Anyway,” Dave said, “Someone said something about a dinner? Smells great.”

Rose cleared her throat.  
“Don’t get ahead of yourshelf,” she said. “There’s a structure to these things, you know. There are affairs to be addreshed, rhetoric to be delivered and deliberated on, and appetizers if that isn’t enough to whet your palate. But first…” she lifted and brandished her bottle to the gathering. “A toast.”

The trolls stared at her, nonplussed.  
“Uh,” said Dave. “What, uh, what is that.”  
“Well, Dave,” Rose said, “Sometimes in the process of sciensh, you come across unplanned discoveries. Happy accidents, you might say. I thought it was only appropriate for the occasion.”  
“What occasion?” Dave grimaced. “Please tell me that’s not really liquor- ohhh, and you’re slurring.”  
“Fine,” said Rose, “If my contributions aren’t apper-… appreciated, I’ll keep them to myshelf.”  
She tipped the bottle into her glass. It drizzled lazily and then dripped as the last of it drained into the half-full cup.

“Oh my god,” said Dave.  
Vriska cleared her throat. “Well, now that that’s out of the way. I actually have an announcement to make! So how about we dish out those appetizers, hmm?”  
“Excush you,” Rose started, but Kanaya put a hand on her arm, and then stood to lift the lid from one of the round dishes in the center of the table.  
Terezi wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“…I’m glad you asked,” said Rose. “I’ve been experimenting on a way to bridge the colerner… culinary discrepancies between our shpecies, to create a satisfying middle ground so that we might all dine together without sacrificing the integrity of the union by shegregating  ourselves with ‘troll’ foods and ‘human’ foods. While a tradisher…shunal human meal would start with a soup or salad, Kanyanya informs me that trolls prefer a dip or spread. I’ve manufactured a tuber biscuit that should be suitable to all tastes, and a variety of spreads to sample.”

Kanaya broke the awkward stalemate and began to load her plate. Everyone else eventually followed suit, with similar expressions of uncertainty.  
“The fuck’s that orange shit?” Dave asked.  
“Hawkant eggs,” Terezi answered, scooping a mound onto her plate. “Delicious.”  
“Yerrrgh,” said Dave.  
“You should try some,” Terezi said sweetly.  
“Haha, no, I don’t think so,” said Dave.

Vriska caught his eye, and grinned at him. “I dare you.”  
Dave frowned, shook his head, and then reluctantly scooped a heap onto his plate. The Scourge Sisters looked at each other and cackled mirthfully.  
“Fucking sick, you guys. Bug eggs?” Dave smeared some over a biscuit, and then lifted it to his nose to sniff. The scent was unobtrusively bland. “You guys eat some freaky-ass shit. I swear, sometimes I look over and you’re popping whole grasshoppers in your mouths like it’s no big deal.”  
“Yes, we do that just to bother you,” Terezi said smugly. “Eat the eggs, Dave.”

Dave shrugged and took a bite.  
“Hmm,” he said.  
“What, that’s it?” said Vriska.  
“Meh,” said Dave.  
“You’re no fun,” said Terezi.

Dave shrugged again. “It wasn’t great. And it pops in your mouth which is weird and gross. But isn’t it kinda culturally insensitive to freak out about foreign food like it’s the worst thing that’s ever tainted your soft palate?”  
“Knowing what taints your soft palate,” Rose called loudly from across the table, “Undoubt… doubted… fully!”  
“Nice,” said Dave. “You know what, I don’t think I like drunk Rose. Where was the subtlety in that delivery?”

Vriska cleared her throat loudly. And then again, when the first time failed to gather the table’s attention. Then she stood up, climbed up onto her chair, and spread her arms wide as if to encompass them all in an embrace.  
“Now, then,” she said. “Time for business. I know we’ve all been floundering these past weeks. We went through an ordeal or two, and it’s only natural that those with weaker dispositions would need a break to recover from that. But! Somebody has to say it. Enough is enough. Pupa playtime is over!”  
There was a collective groan from the table. Rose downed the last of her drink.  
“First order of business,” Vriska continued, “We need a training regimen. _Some_ of us-“ she looked at Karkat. “-more than others, but we could all stand for some self-improvement. A few of us are god tiers, but so what? There’s _always_ ways to improve yourself. We’ve been given a golden opportunity, and we’re squandering our time on, what. Tuber biscuits?”

Rose stood up- but Kanaya grabbed her hand before she could wobble in Vriska’s direction.  
“I propose,” Vriska said, unperturbed, “mandatory training sessions, weekly at the very least. I graciously volunteer to run these sessions as well as any practice sparring in between. Even if you don’t value your life enough to do it for yourself, do it for the sake of the _mission_.”  
“Thank you for your contribution, Vriska,” Rose said bitterly. She sunk back into her chair, clutching her empty glass in both hands. 

Vriska smiled and shook her head dismissively, then turned to Terezi. She held out a hand and wiggled her fingers. Terezi looked momentarily perplexed, but then she grinned broadly and took her hand, climbing up to stand on her own chair next to her.

“Second order of business. Terezi and I,” Vriska announced, and Karkat broke his uncanny silence with an exasperated sigh. Vriska ignored this. “Have been hard at work on a little something I think you’ll all enjoy. We’ve structured it like a game- because, I know we all like games, right? But it will function most invaluably as a team building exercise. _That’s_ the only thing we have over Jack. We have our numbers, and we have time to prepare. So let’s freaking prepare!”

And with that she dropped Terezi’s hand and sat back down. Terezi quickly followed suit.  
“Alright, so…” said Dave. “Can we eat now?”    
Rose tossed up her hands. “I guess!”  
Kanaya smiled awkwardly and lifted the lid from the second, larger dish. The savory scent of gravy wafted over them, and somebody’s stomach made an audible remark.

“Manufactured protein, xeno-safe human veg, troll tubers, and artificial grubjuice,” Rose mumbled.  
“Artificial?” questioned Terezi.  
“Well,” said Rose, “There’s no grubs in it. But I assure you the flavor is indish…. Indishhding… wisherbol.”  
“ _Wow_ ,” said Vriska. “Grubjuice without any grubs in it. Wow.”

“Rose put a lot of work into this,” Kanaya said softly.  
“A lot of wasted effort,” Vriska said flippantly. “There’s so many more important things she could be doing with her time. The alchemy work was promising at first, but this? Pointless. Not to mention all the library cataloguing that needs done, and I wouldn’t mind some help charting out the deep lab.”  
“Mind your own business,” Kanaya said more firmly.

Vriska fell silent, taken aback.  
Then she said, “It _is_ my business. You know what my business is? Minimizing casualties.”  
“Hey. Vriska,” said Dave, and she turned to him, obviously ready for an argument. “Could you pass me the scoop? I wanna try this weird food, yo.”

Vriska shrugged and handed it over. The table degenerated quickly into the clatter of dishes as everyone served themselves and tentatively began to eat. The Mayor had left his seat to go stand behind Rose, patting her back. Most gazes were locked on their own plates, and the tension in the air was almost palpable.

And then Karkat stood up and slammed his fork to the table loudly.

Everyone turned to him expectantly, almost as if they’d been waiting for it.  
“You know what, I’m fucking sick of this,” Karkat said coldly. “What is this, what are we even arguing about? Food? Who gives a behemoth leaving! What the fuck is _wrong with all of us_!?”  
Vriska sighed. “Sit down, Karkat.”  
“No!” Karkat snapped, “I don’t think I will! It’s my turn to pontificate, here’s _my_ announcement. I just want to remind everybody that we’re arguing about tuber biscuits with the girl who _murdered Tavros!_ ”

Vriska sprung up so fast her chair toppled over. She stood at the ready, as if set to launch herself over the table at Karkat with a moment’s notice.

“That’s right,” said Karkat defiantly. “Here we are, once again, gathered around to pretend like everything’s just fine, except there’s only four trolls at this table _for some reason_. Where, exactly have they all gone? I mean, Gamzee’s still alive, presumably, but nobody cares about him because of his little murder spree. But where’s the rest of my friends? Where’s, say, Eridan? Wait that’s right, _Kanaya killed him_. But you know! That’s only fair, he did kill her first! _Right in front of me, in this very room!_ ”

Karkat paused for breath. “But none of us ever talk about that! No, we go about our days pretending the biggest issues in our lives are who’s riding who’s nook! Well I’m fucking sick of it! I’m done! I’m not going to pretend like everything’s okay and we’re all still bestest pals when nobody wants to talk about _anything that actually matters!_ ”  
Karkat scooted in his chair. “So there you go! There’s your daily Karkat tantrum, I’m going to go emotionally flog myself in the hall but you guys all just enjoy your meal!”

And with that he turned and stormed away.  
Rose called weakly after him, “But what about dessert?”

 

\---

 

Karkat sat with his back to the wall and his legs pulled to his chest, face buried in his knees and his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was panting for breath as if he’d been running, and was very visibly shaking. He didn’t look up or even move as footsteps approached from his right.

“Thanks for the gesture Kanaya,” he grumbled. “But you’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve changed my mind and will be spending the rest of the trip with my strut pod jammed firmly in my cavernous regret hole. _No_ , I don’t need to talk. Ever again, probably.”  
“That’s fine,” said a voice that was distinctly not Kanaya’s. “I talk a whole lot.”  
Karkat looked up just in time to see Dave sink down the wall next to him, a few feet away but close enough to touch if either of them reached out.  
“Kanaya’s a little busy with a Rose situation,” Dave explained. “But hey, a Dave is slightly better than a Nothing, right?”

Karkat huffed. “I guess. I really… I don’t want to talk.”  
“It’s okay,” said Dave. “You can just listen, but I’ve got some quality Real Talk. If that’s alright?”  
“Um…” Karkat frowned. “Sure.”  
Dave took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.  
“Do you remember, how me and Rose tried to blow up the Green Sun and all that?”  
“Yes?” Karkat said apprehensively.

Dave ran his hands through his hair. He left them tangled at his temples and spoke in a slow, detached voice.

“I thought it was going to be forever. I thought that was _it._ A neat and tidy little ending to tie off the whole Dave Strider _situation_. I really, really believed I was going to die. And I was so…” he paused. “…Relieved. I think it got easier every time it happened. Dying, I mean. Most of them, it was like it wasn’t even me. I guess it wasn’t. It was ‘other Daves,’ from ‘other timelines.’ I dunno how they felt about it for sure, but considering they were _me_ I can imagine it pretty well.”

Karkat sat up straighter, dumbstruck. He wished, not for the first time, that Dave didn’t wear those stupid glasses so that he could see his face, and maybe _then_ he’d know what to say.

“So,” Dave continued, “by the time I died and actually, you know, remembered it happening, it was all just… routine. Another dead Dave that didn’t even matter. And then I carried on like it was no big deal but it kind of really was a big fucking deal? I _remember_ dying, I remember every detail of how it felt to die, and then I was ‘Derse’ Dave because I’d always been Derse Dave, but also I _hadn’t_ always been Derse Dave because there was this whole life in my head that I remembered living even though technically, I hadn’t.”

He sighed. “So then it was like… whatever. The ‘real’ Dave was dead, and nobody except maybe Jade even acted like it was a big deal, and like. Fuck. Maybe it wasn’t. That Dave wasn’t any more real than like, Davesprite. Or any of the Alternate Timeline Daves. _They_ were all disposable. So what did it even matter? And I was just… I _am_ just… Really, really tired of thinking about bullshit like that. I wanted to die, so I wouldn’t have to think anymore. It would be some other Dave’s problem, or maybe it wouldn’t, maybe I was the last Dave- the ‘real’ Dave- after all, but either way oh fucking well I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I’m too much of a pussy to kill myself but I’d found a great, convenient excuse for something else to do it for me, and I was _ready to die_ and then I _did_ die and then...”

“Dave,” Karkat said weakly.  
“Then,” Dave continued, “I was god tier and the whole thing had been a bunch of bullshit and now here I am. The Dave that matters, I guess. Alive for the next three years at least, cuz even if I flew off and tried to fight Jack right now there’d be nothing Heroic or Just about it and I’d probably just end up floating in space or un-space or whatever for the rest of eternity.”

Dave looked up, and forced a smile at Karkat. “So um, there you go. You can talk about your dead friends if you want. You can’t _possibly_ overshare more than I just did. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll have anything helpful to say about it. But. You can tell me anything, and I swear I’ll listen, and I won’t judge you for it. Okay?”  
  
“Holy fuck,” said Karkat. And then, because he didn’t know what else to do, he hugged him.


	11. X: Breach

Dave tensed uncomfortably in Karkat’s arms, and reluctantly, the troll quickly pulled away.  
“Sorry,” Dave mumbled, “I’m not trying to jockey you into pitying me or any of that posturing bullshit. I just… agree with what you were saying? Ever since we got here there’s been, like, this… wall, between me and Rose. We went through all that shit together, and at the time it was like… I’d never been closer to anyone before. There was this silent _understanding_ between us. But that’s all gone now. Or, not gone, just. Unacknowledged, on both sides- I’m not blaming her, it’s mostly my fault.”

“Yeah,” Karkat said bitterly. “ _Fuck_ , I’m such a wormspleened hypocrite.”  
“Hey, no,” said Dave.  
“Hey, yes,” Karkat said firmly. “It’s not like I’ve ever tried to bring it up. And Kanaya- _Kanaya’s_ been trying to get me to open up for weeks, I know she has. But I just can’t. I can’t talk to her about things like that.”  
“Why not?” Dave asked. “-Honest question, not like, pushing you to try anyway because. God knows I don’t even know where to start with Rose, or if I even _want_ to.”  
“…A lot of reasons.” Karkat shrugged. “Most of it’s just… Troll stuff.”  
“Lay it on me, I love troll stuff.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Boundary issues, for one. There’s nothing wrong with sharing your problems with your friends, but deep personal issues are usually reserved for moirails. And Kanaya deserves a better moirail than me, even if I did feel that way about her. Which… I don’t know.”  
Karkat sighed. “But it’s more than that. It’s… I’m… Are you sure you want to listen to this? _I_ don’t want to listen to this.”  
Dave awkwardly put a hand on Karkat’s shoulder. “Remember that time I dropped a monologue on your ass like you were a starving street urchin and I was a wealthy dickbag tossing word-pennies for you to chase for my own entertainment? That was like, two minutes ago. You’re fine.”

Karkat snorted. He risked a glance at Dave- at his patient, earnest expression, and then his eyes fell distantly to his shoes.

“I’m a really shit troll, okay? That’s what it comes down to.” He crossed his arms over his own chest and sunk in on himself. “I _shouldn’t care_. I shouldn’t be bothered by it. Trolls kill each other all the time, from the moment we’re born. Highbloods kill lowbloods. Sea-dwellers kill land-dwellers. That’s just the way it is, that’s the way it’s always been. But these people were my _friends_ , I’ve known them since pupahood. And now they’re all either dead, gone, or have blood on their grasp appendages. Except for me and Terezi, and even Terezi’s a fluke, because she would have killed Vriska if it weren’t for John.”

“Yeah…” Dave said quietly.  
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Karkat said distantly. “I should’ve been culled, and not just because of my blood. I’m a disgrace to the entire species.”  
“Jesus, dude,” said Dave. “Listen I don’t know shit about being a troll, so maybe I’m talking out my ass here, but there is _nothing wrong_ with caring about people. That doesn’t make you weak. And caring as much as you obviously do, in a society where you’re not really supposed to? Man, that takes balls.”  
“I’m… not sure I understand the sentiment,” Karkat said slowly.

“ _Cojones_ , hombre. Do trolls not have testicles? –Wait, don’t answer that.” Dave paused. “Courage, is what I meant. I think it’s brave. You’re a rebel without a cause, givin’ a shit about people, and ain’t nobody gonna stop you.”  
Karkat looked at him skeptically. “I really don’t think it works like that.”  
“Naw, man, naw,” Dave said. “That’s hella punk, dude. That’s heavy metal. That’s fuckin’ grindcore noise rock, that’s what that is.”  
“Thanks, I think,” said Karkat.

“You should tell me about them,” said Dave. “Your friends.”  
Karkat hesitated. “…Yeah, okay, I-“  
In the distance, they could hear the sound of footsteps and muted voices.  
“-But not out here, that could get… awkward.”  
“Heh, yeah.”

Dave pushed himself up to his feet, and offered Karkat a hand to help him up. Karkat stared at it for a second, and then hesitantly took it.  
“I have an idea,” Dave said. “Follow me.”

 

\---

 

“Outside!?” Karkat said incredulously. “Are you out of your mothergrubbing mind?”  
“Just trust me on this,” Dave said, with his hand on the door knob. “I come up here to think.”  
“How can you _possibly_ think with that… that… all that shit out there?” Karkat winced.  
“ _Trust_ me,” Dave repeated. He twisted the handle and opened the door, holding it open with one arm and beckoning Karkat through it with the other.

Reluctantly Karkat stepped outside, watching his feet to avoid looking at the vacant sky. Dave followed him out and walked past him, then flopped down inelegantly on his back with his arms folded behind his head.  
“Come on,” Dave urged, when Karkat didn't immediately join him.  
“I’m not getting on the _ground_ , Dave,” Karkat complained loudly.  
“Oh my god,” Dave said, sitting up. “You’re so uptight, I swear, the stick up your ass has gotta be fossilized by now. Or turned to diamond or some shit, I’m not a scientist.”  
“I’m-“ Karkat started, but Dave interrupted him by blowing a large raspberry.  
“Hush your pretty mouth,” Dave said. “Here.”

Dave pulled his cowl up over his head, and then spread his cape out beside him the way one might a picnic blanket. He gestured to it expectantly with both hands.  
“Sit your ass down.”  
Karkat sat down.  
Even still, he kept his eyes locked downward, away from the cavernous abyss that stretched infinitely in all directions.

“…Hey,” Dave said. “Are you really not okay with this? We can go back inside, I just thought that, well, I mean… I like it, is all.”  
“How can you _like_ it?” Karkat said incredulously. “I hate it out here. I don’t need any reminders of how small and insignificant I am.”  
Dave looked out into the expanse of black, out at the distant specks of color that represented every dream they’d ever had and ever would have, and housed every life they’d ever lived and lost.

“See, that’s the thing about a multiverse,” Dave said. “We’ve already done and will do and are currently doing every variation on every action ad infinitum. So like, there _are_ no wrong actions, only necessary actions, because time ain’t a line. It’s like an infinitely branching path all woven together, like the words in a delirious rap. Maybe they don’t mean much on their own, but they’re all vitally important to the big picture- even the sick nastiest lyrics need their ‘the’s and ‘be’s and ‘to’s. You know?”  
“What are you, a philosopher now?” Karkat said, raising his eyebrows and smirking. “That’s a deep ascertainment for someone who stuck a pencil up his sniff nub this morning.”  
“I’m just sayin’,” said Dave. “Small, sure. But you’re not insignificant.”

“That’s exactly what I hate, though,” Karkat said. “If everything’s already pre-determined, then what’s the fucking point?”  
“The point,” Dave said like it was obvious, “is that you think too much. Just sit back and look at the pretty colors.”  
Karkat sighed in exasperation. He stretched out on Dave’s cape and finally looked out into the sea of distant light.   
“I guess,” he said vacantly, “It is nice to imagine you’re part of something bigger than yourself.”  
“It’s literally not even that, though,” said Dave. “It’s just straight up fact. I don’t give a donkey fisting fuck about destiny, but you gotta admit that we’re a pretty big deal?”  
“Maybe you are,” Karkat mumbled. “Any importance I ever had in the grand scheme of things has already played out, and surprise, it only resulted in making everything terrible.”

“Karkat we’re on a real slippery slope here,” said Dave. “Obviously I don’t know the depths of your soul, we’ve only been hanging out for a little while, but. The thing is, I’ve been having a real shit time lately. Like… pretty much the only time I’m not tits deep in the swamp of sadness is when we’re together. So you’re important to me, at least, and I kind of love you, bro.”

Karkat cast him a sideways glance. “…Are you making fun of me?”  
“Usually, but no,” Dave shrugged. “Don’t make me get mushy, yo, I’m no good at it.”  
“Okay,” said Karkat. “What, no profound rant about the sanctity of your alleged ‘hetero-sexuality’?”  
“Yeah, whatever, no homo,” said Dave. “Anyway, weren’t you going to tell me about your friends?”

Karkat watched him warily, trying to parse some deeper meaning from the quirk of his lips or the furrow of his eyebrows, but if there was something else to find there he didn’t know where to look. Instead he turned back to the yawning void.

“I’m not really sure where to start,” Karkat said, frowning. “I guess… Which of them have you talked to?”  
“Oh, jeez,” Dave put a hand to his forehead. “Alright, let me think. I mostly talked to Terezi and the bull fighter guy.”  
“Tavros.”  
“Uh huh,” said Dave. “And the ludicrous clown dude- Gamzee? Man, that guy was great until you realized he was serious.”  
“Right?” said Karkat.  
“Anyway, him plus the two who sent us off at the Green Sun.”  
“Sollux and Aradia. Anyone else?”

“Uhhhhh.” Dave rubbed his temples. “A roleplaying cat girl, aaand… oh, yeah. Unsettling blue text guy. Minotaur balls or something. I think that’s all of them.”  
Karkat rolled his eyes. “Oh god. Nepeta, and Equius.”  
“Just a warning,” said Dave, “I am almost definitely not going to remember most of these names.”  
“That’s fine.” Karkat paused. “Counting all of us here, that’s everyone but the sea dwellers. Eridan, and Feferi.”  
“Yeah, I’m pretty popular with the freaks and geeks,” said Dave. “How did the motley crew form anyway?”

“It's not a very exciting story, if that's what you're expecting,” said Karkat. “Trolls hatched in the same sweep are sorted into arbitrary groups for schoolfeeding.”  
“Oh my god,” Dave said. “Troll school had to be fuckin’ wild.”  
“Not really,” said Karkat. “It’s nothing like your human schooling. For one thing, it’s been centuries since schoolhives were widely used, so shenanigan-based antics were few and far between. We rarely met in person before Sgrub.”  
“To be fair,” said Dave. “I get the impression that human school isn’t all it’s cracked up to be on TV, anyway.”  
“Get the impression,” Karkat repeated. “Did you not attend human school?” 

“Nah,” said Dave. “Most my friends were home schooled. Jade not so much, due to being raised mainly by a dog.”  
“What about you, though?”  
“Um.” Dave shrugged. “I dunno, man. My Bro’s idea of lessons were less history and arithmetic, more, how to not get hit by a sword. Luckily the internet exists though, so I’m not a complete ignoramus.”  
Karkat smirked. “I wouldn’t say that.”  
“Shut up,” Dave said, limply punching him in the shoulder. “So were you all pretty close, or?”

“Sort of,” said Karkat. “I knew them all for a really long time, so even the ones I didn’t like, they were all so _familiar_ that it felt like… This is stupid, but it felt like things would always be the way they were.”  
“That’s not stupid,” said Dave. “I think I kind of know how you feel. You get so used to things being how they are that change seems kinda… incomprehensible.”  
“Yeah,” said Karkat. He sighed. “I just… miss them, all of them. A whole lot. I even miss Gamzee sometimes.”  
“Yeah, what’s even, what’s up with that?” asked Dave.

Karkat shook his head. “Who the fuck knows. Vriska has him locked up in a dungeon or something, assuming she didn’t just straight up kill him and ‘forget’ to tell us. I think… I think I should be more worried about Gamzee, but I’m not. Is that terrible?”  
“Dude…” Dave said, grimacing. “It is perfectly okay to limit your worrying to people who actually give a shit about you and didn’t straight up murder a bunch of your friends.”  
“Yeah,” said Karkat, but he didn’t sound particularly convinced.

“So what…” Dave asked slowly, “What exactly… happened? You don’t gotta go into detail, and I kinda have a general idea, but I dunno how to help you without knowing what went down.”  
“Honestly,” Karkat said, “the cause and effect is so fucking obscured, and the people with the most answers are either dead or shithive maggots. The short of it is that Eridan- the fish guy- was arguing with Sollux and Feferi. About what I have no idea, but this was a normal enough occurrence that saying so is like saying Alternia’s sun is ‘a bit bright.’ So I wasn’t even listening until it got violent, and by then it was…” 

Karkat trailed off, swallowing heavily. “Eridan knocked out Sollux, killed Feferi, and then Kanaya when she tried to intervene. I was… there, right there, the whole time, and I couldn’t… and I didn’t…”  
“Oh,” said Dave. “So is that when your Kanaya smooching went down, then?”  
“ _That’s_ what you’re most interested in?” Karkat said incredulously.  
“Sorry,” said Dave. “I’ll shut up.”  
“No, it’s…” Karkat fiddled awkwardly with the edges of Dave’s cape. “Yeah, you know what, actually. I think I want to just… keep talking until I get it all out. No offense.”  
“Go for it,” said Dave.

Karkat sat up took a deep breath. “And then… Gamzee, my good dear friend who had gone missing, finally messaged me back out of the blue. Guess fucking what, his think pan bughouse had opened its gates and flooded his nugbone with loony juice. –Or I guess, the opposite of that. He used to eat sopor slime, it was a whole thing. The point is he went fucking axe-happy nuts.”

Karkat glanced over at Dave, half expecting to see him spacing off as he often did. Dave was watching him thoughtfully, leaning up on one elbow with his chin resting on his knuckles. Karkat quickly averted his eyes.  
“I didn’t know what to do,” he continued, “but Gamzee was leaving all these fucked up messages about coming to get me, so I carried Sollux and we got the shit out of there. It- it-… god, it was… Anyway, Terezi messaged me, but I didn’t see it until she’d already left. She said ‘someone’- read, Vriska- had killed Tavros. And then _Gamzee_ fucking _honked_ at me- from her messenger!” 

Karkat shuddered. “So then I found a place to camp out until Sollux woke up. Eventually he did and he talked to Terezi about being blind- oh yeah, also he was blind. Then we waited, hiding in the dark like cullbait fresh from the pupa. But he- Gamzee- kept messaging me, and leaving notes for me to find, so we- we had to keep moving, and I fucking… I _lost Sollux_.”

Karkat paused to collect himself. He could feel himself shaking even sitting still, and his mouth had gone so dry his tongue felt like sandpaper in his throat.  
“That’s the shit fucking stonefruit on the agony cake of Karkat’s incompetence,” Karkat croaked. “I _lost the blind guy_ and then ran and hid like the worst kind of coward. So I don’t know exactly how the rest of this went down. Earlier I’d talked to Equius about trying to confront Gamzee and I guess he really did it, because Gamzee killed him, and his moirail Nepeta. Eventually Kanaya- dead Kanaya, who was sort of not dead or undead or… Whatever. Kanaya contacted me, she had Sollux with her, had killed Eridan, and knew the location of Terezi, Vriska, and Gamzee. That’s pretty much it, that’s the story. She tracked me down and we met up with the others. Gamzee was tied up, and Terezi was talking to Vriska, and then… John showed up. You know how that story goes already so I won’t bore you with the details.”

Again, Karkat looked questioningly at Dave. He had the strangest thought that maybe Dave was only pretending to look interested. After all, for all he knew, Dave had his eyes closed and was actually asleep behind those shades. But then he moved and dispelled the illusion.  
“Okay,” said Karkat. “You can talk now.” 

“Can I hug you?” Dave said immediately.  
“Uh,” said Karkat.  
“I mean I know you don’t like being touched,” Dave said, sitting up and scooting closer to him. “I feel you, me neither to be honest. But you know what, hugging it out is a solid fuckin’ concept. You can even cry if you want to, I won’t judge.”  
“For fuck's sake,” said Karkat, “I’m not going to cry.”  
“Shh, no, come here,” Dave spread his arms wide. “Place your head upon my bosom and shower me in your crimson sorrow.”  
Karkat snorted and covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, what?”  
Dave patted his chest with one hand. “Come on, don’t be afraid. My grasp is firm, but gentle.”

Karkat held up his arms stiffly.  
“Okay?” he said.  
“Aw yesss.” Dave inched forward, angling his arms under Karkat’s. “Where doing it, man.”  
“Uh, yep.” Karkat awkwardly pulled himself to Dave’s chest, his arms draped around his shoulders. Dave wrapped his own tightly around Karkat’s middle.  
“Where making this happen,” Dave finished for himself.  
“We sure are.” Karkat closed his eyes and squeezed tighter. The ache in his chest didn’t go away, but Dave’s warmth was some reassurance on its own. He let the embrace linger for a few seconds, and then quickly pulled away.

He thought, just for a split second, that Dave looked disappointed.  
Karkat sighed and fell back onto Dave’s cape.  
“Isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to feel better?” Karkat said agitatedly. “What’s the fucking point of talking about this shit if all I feel now is tired?”  
“Hm,” said Dave. He rubbed his palms on his sleeves. “I hate to sound like Rose, but maybe if you talked about your feelings more?”  
“Feelings,” Karkat repeated, scowling.  
“Hey, man, don’t look at me like that,” said Dave. “I don’t know how it works either.”

“I feel…” Karkat gnawed at his bottom lip, and closed his eyes. “Pissed the fuck off, that’s how I feel. I want to feel upset, or guilty, and I do, but. It’s all lost in this overwhelming feeling of resignation because no matter how shit everything was, it was apparently the _right_ thing to do, or none of us would even be here. Sure, maybe I could have auspisticed between Sollux and Eridan, or stopped Gamzee, and doomed us all. And it makes me feel like… like… if the universe depends so much on my failure then… then maybe… Maybe I don’t _deserve_ absolution.”

“Jesus,” said Dave. Karkat didn’t respond, or even react save to press a hand tightly over one eye. “Shitting fuck, give me a second. Okay… Okay, but the thing is. _You_ didn’t cause any of that stuff to happen, okay? It’s not your fault.”  
“You don’t get it,” Karkat said, opening one eye to glare at him weakly. “I was their _leader_. That makes me 100% responsible for all of it.”  
“No, I don’t think so,” said Dave. “Leader or not, you can’t control what other people do. And you did everything you could do. A real coward would have left Snorlax with the bodies. And someone who didn’t deserve forgiveness wouldn’t feel guilty for the things he can’t change. You’re not a bad person, Karkat. You can’t keep blaming yourself for things that were out of your hands.”

“I can and I will,” Karkat said, but he gave Dave a toothy smirk.  
“Then I guess I’ll have to shower you in praise to balance it out,” Dave said stubbornly.  
“Oh _no_ , anything but that,” said Karkat. He sat up and turned his head to look at Dave.  
“What’s that face for?” Dave asked.  
Karkat shifted uncomfortably. “…Can I hug you again?”

Dave laughed and flung his arms around him. 


	12. XI: Hide

Karkat exhaled slowly to clear his lungs, and then sank languidly up to his eyes in the viscous goo of his recuperacoon. The first draw of slime through his spiracles and across his gills was uncomfortably frigid, much colder than it felt on the surface of his skin. His body tensed, and then relaxed as it adjusted to the subsidiary respiration, before settling into a steady, even pattern.  
Karkat closed his eyes and disappeared into the well of green.

Even though the soporifics were artificial, Karkat found the reassuring press of the goo all around him soothing in its own merit. The gel quickly warmed to his body heat, and after only a few more minutes Karkat could feel himself floating off to sleep. Maybe today it would be easy. Maybe today would be the rare day when he could drift away effortlessly and stay that way without interruption.

Yeah, right.

Karkat felt an acidic singe in the back of his throat, and his stomach churned uncomfortably. The night’s events replayed over and over in his mind’s eye in striking detail, changing slightly every time; things he could have done differently, things he should have said. Mostly, he wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

He could only imagine what Dave must think of him now. It was one thing to _say_ you weren’t going to judge someone, but wasn’t it impossible not to? Whatever Dave’s opinion of him had been before, it had to be better than the brittle husk Karkat imagined he saw now. If only that weren't so close to the truth.

It was stupid that he even cared what Dave thought, anyway. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Dave’s arms around his waist, and his breath in his hair. Karkat pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his own arms tightly around them. Stupid. Stupid, selfish, and a little disgusting the way he had to corrupt everything with his baseless fixations. It was enough of a miracle that Dave, _for some reason_ , apparently really did want to be his friend.

Why couldn’t he just be happy with what he had for once in his bugwinged life?

Karkat twisted fitfully, fighting the fruitless battle to try and ease the tension from his restless limbs. Dave was probably waiting for him by now. One day Dave would get tired of waiting.  
One day Dave would get tired of him.  
He found an odd sense of contentment in that thought. Just another one of those inevitable things. No use getting worked up over it…

And then he was asleep.

 

\---

 

“Karkat. Heeeeey Karkat!”  
Karkat curled tighter in on himself and tried to block out the noise, but the prodding finger between his shoulder blades was harder to ignore.  
“Karkat! Why do I get the feline you’re not as pawleased to see me as I am to see you?”

Karkat cracked open a bleary eye. He shifted slightly, dislodging something from the pile he lay curled in and sending it bouncing in a cacophony of squeaky honks. He bolted upright, causing the heap to squawk in mock protest.  
“Wh-?” he breathed, looking around frantically. “When did I-? _Fuck_ how long have I been asleep?”  
“Nefurmind that,” Nepeta quipped cheerily. “Now that you’re up, I have something furry important to show you.”

“I… okay?” Karkat shook his head to clear it. He gingerly extracted himself from the horn pile, wincing at every obnoxious squeal that issued forth. His head felt muggy, and he had the nagging sensation that he was forgetting something important. There was something he was supposed to do when he felt this way, so many somethings, but he couldn’t quite remember...  
“Pawllow me,” Nepeta said, gesturing with one hand as she stepped onto the transportalizer.

“How long was I asleep?” Karkat asked again, after they’d rematerialized.  
Nepeta strode off without replying, darting off down the hallway so quickly Karkat had to jog to keep up.  
“Hey!” Karkat shouted after her. “Slow down!”  
Nepeta ignored him. If anything, she got faster- very soon he was having to sprint and was slipping further and further behind.  
“Wait!” Karkat yelled as she turned a corner and disappeared from view.

Karkat followed, out into a vast, open chasm of a room. In the room’s center was an enormous tank housing a vaguely caprine form. Karkat swallowed heavily.  
“Nepeta?” he called warily, hating the quaver in his voice. “Where… Why…”  
His eyes fell to the smears of green and blue over the scarlet tile. And in the middle of the pool…  
He had never seen this. He had only ever seen the aftermath, after the bodies had been moved. This was-

“Oh god, I’m dreaming,” Karkat said, staggering back a few shaky steps. Saying it didn’t help, it still felt real. The sound of a distant honk- but not too distant, not distant enough- brought it back, a solid, inescapable fact.  
“This- this isn’t-“ he tried to insist. Another step backward, and then he stopped, slamming into something tall and solid and alive.  
“This is motherfucking real,” Gamzee breathed in his ear. “It should have been you… but it’s not too late to join them.”

Gamzee covered his mouth before he could scream. He screamed anyway, but no sound came out. There was something in his mouth, something creeping down his throat. Karkat gagged and tried to jerk away- but he couldn’t move.

He opened his eyes, heart racing, pulse pounding in his ears. All around him was murky green. And something- someone- another shape among the slime. There were two long-fingered hands curled around his throat, and a silhouette of long horns, messy hair, and a grin just visible through the grime- hard to make out, but impossible to mistake. Karkat tried to jerk away, but Gamzee had him pinned down. He couldn’t breathe- couldn’t- couldn’t-

 _Stop breathing through your mouth, you dumbass,_ he tried to tell himself, forcing liquid through his spiracles. _It’s not real, it’s just-_

Karkat closed his eyes again, and focused on his hands. Gamzee wasn’t here. All he had to do was move his hands. All he had to do was move his fingers. Make a fist. All he had to do-  
Karkat’s fingers quivered and then curled very slowly to his palms. All at once he sat up, coughing violently and expelling fluid all down the side of his recuperacoon.

“Fuh- _fuck!_ ” he sputtered, choking and retching until he almost threw up. “Oh god, oh god, it’s _in my mouth_!”

He hefted himself haphazardly over the edge of the cocoon and onto the floor, curling up in a heap of slick, quivering limbs. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. Weakly, he lifted his hand to his face and counted his fingers. Once, twice, three times. The number stayed the same. Five regular, not-dreaming fingers.

Well. He’d made a valiant attempt at sleep. Good try, Karkat, but not good enough. Dave would have to get used to disappointment if he wanted to hang out around him, anyway.

Karkat toweled off wearily before slumping into his desk chair and turning on his crabtop.  
He was surprised to find a message already waiting for him, sent less than ten minutes before.  


> TG: hey karkat youre not still awake are you  
> 

Karkat watched his cursor flashing in the textbox, and considered ignoring the message. He’d already decided sleep wasn’t happening today, but if he started talking to Dave now it would only drag him down with him. Karkat bit his lip, and made the selfish decision.  

> carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]
> 
> CG: NOT SLEEPING IS ONLY ONE OF MY MANY LUCRATIVE AND HEINOUSLY UNFUFILLING TALENTS.  
> 

Karkat leaned back to wait, but Dave’s reply came almost without pause. 

> TG: yeah man you dont gotta tell me  
>  TG: hey though  
>  TG: so i was thinking  
>  TG: youre not asleep  
>  TG: im not asleep  
>  TG: how about like  
>  TG: we dont sleep together, you know what im sayin  
>  CG: NO?  
>  TG: ok  
>  TG: so  
>  TG: this isnt a weird thing  
>  CG: REALLY? BECAUSE THE WAY YOU’RE PHRASING IT, IT SOUNDS LIKE IT MIGHT JUST *POSSIBLY* BE A WEIRD THING.  
>  TG: no see it might sound weird because of our uh  
>  TG: cultural differences  
>  TG: but see theres this thing that bros do when they’re buds  
>  TG: called a sleepover  
>  TG: so what theyll do is they pick someones… what outlandish bug word do you use for houses again? hives?  
>  CG: I’M GOING TO IGNORE THAT.  
>  TG: so they pick someones nest and go there during the night time  
>  TG: which i guess is the day time for you but anyway  
>  TG: they go there and hang out and have a gay ol nighttime friendly pal time together  
>  TG: happy gay not gay gay its a figure of speech  
>  TG: not that  
>  TG: anyway  
>  CG: SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT.  
>  CG: YOU WANT ME TO GO OVER TO YOUR RESPITEBLOCK  
>  TG: if that means room then yes  
>  CG: DURING YOUR DESIGNATED SLEEPING HOURS  
>  CG: AND DO… WHAT, EXACTLY?  
>  TG: well  
>  TG: sleep i guess  
>  TG: or not i mean thats up to you  
>  TG: i dont know it sounded like a good idea at the time  
>  CG: OKAY.  
>  CG: JUST GIVE ME A FEW MINUTES TO GET DRESSED.  
>  TG: shit dude really?  
>  CG: IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO.  
> 

 

\---

 

Karkat stood awkwardly in the hallway with a growing discomfort welling up in the pit of his chest. This _looked_ like the area Dave had described to him, and he’d followed his directions to the letter, but standing now before a selection of doors all he could think was that he’d rather die than knock on the wrong one.

He was seriously considering turning back when one of the doors to his left swung suddenly open.  
“Oh, uh hi,” Dave said, leaning out of it. “I thought you got lost or something.”  
“Only a complete idiot could get lost here,” Karkat said, pushing past him into the room. “Or a human. _Trolls_ have highly attuned navigational skills. I’ve never been lost in my _life_.”  
“Sure man, sure,” said Dave. He had closed the door behind them, but lingered stiffly with his hand on the knob while Karkat scrutinized the room.  
“Sorry," Dave said, "I would have cleaned or something, but I didn’t want to.”  
“Whatever,” said Karkat. “Why do you have so much food in here?”

It was hard not to notice it, even among the clutter. Dave had it arranged in a haphazard stack under his desk; various boxes, bags, and cans of soup, chips, cereal, and assorted other snack foods. The pile had grown so tall he’d had to start heaping it other places as well, like the foot of his bed, or scattered among stacks of crumpled paper and laundry.

“Wow, is this a sleepover, or an interview?” Dave said, pacing back to his bed and flopping onto his back.  
“I wasn’t aware that humans had a hibernation period,” Karkat said smugly.  
“Shut up,” said Dave, “It’s not that weird.”  
“If you say so,” said Karkat. He glanced around for another place to sit, but there weren’t any chairs. Just the bed. Sheepishly, he perched on the end of it, next to Dave. “So…”  
“So yeah,” said Dave. He turned his head to Karkat, and then looked away. “I guess we should figure out sleeping arrangements?”  
“I guess so,” said Karkat.

Dave sat up. “Well there’s only one bed. So I guess I’ll sleep on the floor.”  
Karkat looked at the bed and frowned. “What? You don’t have to do that.”  
“Well I’m not gonna make _you_ sleep on the floor after inviting you over,” Dave said, raising an eyebrow.  
“No, I mean.” Karkat paused. “It’s a big bed. We could both sleep on it.”  
“Oof,” Dave said, grimacing. “Wow, no. No, no. No that’s not a thing.”  
Karkat stared at him.  
“I mean,” Dave continued. “Not that- wow, okay. Uh. Maybe _trolls_ just share beds, but-”  
“Trolls don’t even _have_ beds, you uncultured swine,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes.  
“But humans do not do that,” Dave said firmly. “Or, well, they do. Under very specific circumstances, which do not include two dudes having a sleepover. So, yeah, no. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“That’s stupid,” said Karkat, but Dave was already pulling blankets off the bed. There were a lot of them, Karkat noted, but then Dave _did_ complain about the cold a lot.  
“You know what, I’m not even gonna disagree with you,” Dave said, grabbing a pillow, “but I’m also not gonna share a bed with you. Sorry man.”  
“ _Okay_ ,” said Karkat. “Weirdo.”

Karkat busied himself with the remaining blankets while Dave made a bed for himself on the floor. He stole glances at him out of the corner of his eye, watching the dip and curve of Dave’s shoulders and back as he worked. Dave looked up, and Karkat looked away.

“Don’t you ever change your clothes?” Karkat complained loudly.  
“Well they’re already sort of pajamas,” Dave said with a shrug.  
“Do you even _wash_ them?”  
“Eh.”  
Karkat sank into his mound of blankets, watching Dave skeptically.  
“You’re disgusting,” said Karkat. “ _That’s_ your plan, then? Wear the same clothes for three years and fumigate Jack to death?”

“Aw,” said Dave. “You said years, not point-whatever sweeps. Look at you, all multicultural.”  
Karkat scoffed. “Yeah, well, that makes one person in the room who isn’t plagued with crippling learning disabilities.”  
Dave stuck out his tongue and crawled under his blankets.  
“Anyway,” he said. “Goodnight, I guess.”

Karkat stared at him in silence for a long, drawn out moment.  
“No,” he said.  
“What?”  
“ _No_ ,” Karkat said more firmly. “You wormstuffed ridiculous lusus' tit. _No_ , I _refuse_!”  
“Fine,” said Dave, “Don’t go to sleep, I don’t care.”  
“No!” said Karkat. “You are not wearing those glasses to sleep in, for fuck’s sake!”

Dave sat up.  
“Damn, Karkat, at least take a girl on a date first before demanding she disrobe.”  
Karkat frowned at him insistently, leaning over and folding his arms down the side of the bed.  
“What’s the big deal, anyway? I get it, they’re a present from John.” Karkat rolled his eyes. “But you act like you’re hiding something, it’s obnoxious.”  
Dave gave an exasperated sigh. “I dunno, why don’t you tell me, since you love shredding my persona so much?”

Karkat’s frown intensified, but he said nothing.  
“There’s a lot of reasons, alright?” Dave said flippantly. “Habit, mostly. Here’s me, thinking I’m some kind of revolutionary, when everything I do and think and _feel_ is more solidly _on_ the rails than the world’s safest kiddy coaster.”  
Dave hummed and reached up to touch the rims of his glasses, only to let his hand fall, as if considering and then changing his mind. “It’s a metaphor for my personal boundaries and shit and also for how lightbulbs give me skull-fucking headaches. But if you’re that goddamn concerned about it.”

Dave reached up again and in one smooth motion he pulled the sunglasses from his face, folded them, and stored them away in his captchalogue. Karkat sat, frozen, still leaning over the edge of the bed. This was the last thing he’d expected to happen.

Dave’s eyes were red. He’d already known that, of course, but actually seeing it was a different experience entirely and he felt his heart pounding violently against his rib cage. Dave’s eyes were red, and the irises were quivering ever so slightly, even as he looked at him. His eyelashes were so pale they were almost white, just like his hair. And under his eyes were the softest speckling of freckles.  
Karkat’s breathing suddenly sounded deafening in his own ears.

“Why do they shake like that?” Karkat asked gracelessly.  
Dave groaned. “See this is another reason why I don’t take them off. I don’t gotta explain _shit_ , dude.”  
“No,” said Karkat. He frowned impassively.  
Dave quirked an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. Karkat wondered if he did that even when nobody could see it.

“So you know how you’ve got your blood mutation and all?” Dave said carefully. “So do I. Only for me, it’s my skin, and my eyes, and my hair. And it fucks up a bunch of shit. It’s not a big deal, though. I mean, maybe it would have been a bigger deal if I’d gone to school and shit. But for me it just meant wearing long sleeves even when it was 105 degrees. But… I did that for other reasons, too.”  
“Is this like a theme for you?” said Karkat. “Look at me, I’m Dave Strider. I have fifty contradictory reasons for everything I do.”

Dave snorted. “Basically.”  
Karkat took a deep breath.  
“Thanks for telling me, though.” Karkat held up his hand. “Mutation bros?”  
Dave high-fived him, and then flopped back into bed.  
“Hell yeah, genetic bumfuck bffs forever,” Dave said, grinning. He closed his eyes.

Karkat lingered at the edge of the bed for just a moment longer, memorizing the freckles under Dave’s eyes. He wondered how many people had ever seen them, and the thought that he was one of the privileged few made his heart ache with longing. Quietly, he snuggled into his pile of blankets and closed his own eyes, which would one day be that same shade of red. For the first time, he didn’t dread the thought.


	13. XII: Altearthia Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry for the 2 month hiatus. I experienced some Emotions™ which was incredibly inconvenient, but I have no intentions of dropping this fic so hopefully you'll stay with me through this and any future breaks.

The noise was astounding, even with a door still standing between him and the world outside. Dave reached up to adjust his bowtie, glancing at his reflection in the limousine window, but it was hard to make himself out and harder still to ignore what was out there. A sleek velvet path and a roaring crowd. This was it. Fame, fortune, glory. Dave Strider had taken it and made it his own, and tonight he finally walked the same red carpet as so many others before him.

But for him, it wasn’t the same. No, for him, Hollywood was just the beginning. Easy pickings, big fish in a small pond. Still, it was his first public appearance, and he thought he might as well do it with style.  
“Wish me luck, Jeeves,” Dave said, flashing finger guns at the chauffer before finally opening the door.

He stepped out in all his strident glory, lips pursed tightly and deliberately not looking at the crowd. He wasn’t here for _fans_ , he was here to make a _statement_. And, well, if that meant disappointing The Paps, then all the better.

“But wait,” came the voice of a commentator, “Who is that coming down from the other side?”

Dave looked up and saw Karkat. Karkat with his arms folded and a knowing look on his face, the corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smirk and his eyebrows raised so high they almost vanished into his hair.

“Get a load of this horfbeast’s ass,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “You never fail to make an entrance, do you?”  
Dave held his pokerface, though the crowd had as usual vanished the moment he realized Karkat was there. He put his hands on his hips, and tried to look equal parts dismissive and defiant.  
“I’m a lot to take in, Kat,” Dave said, looking away pensively. “Or are you intimidated? You don’t think you can fit all that sweet Strider goodness up inside you? You can always ask for half a serving, if the whole thing is just too much to swallow.”  
“Oh, I’ll take it,” Karkat said. “Take it and flush it straight down the load gaper with the rest of the shit you’re flinging.”  
“Why you gotta harsh my chill, brodeo?” said Dave. “For once, can’t we just say ‘hi’ like regular people?”

“I just think it’s funny,” Karkat said. “Wait did I say funny? I meant taintgratingly insufferable. I swear, the only thing worse than your Jade is your _Dave_.”  
Dave stopped and put his arms down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”    
“Come on, Dave.” Karkat closed the last yard between them and leaned casually on one of the posts.  
“No, no, what do you mean?” Dave insisted.  
Karkat made a broad sweeping gesture with one hand. “For one, you told me yourself that you don’t like crowds? Why the flashy lights? Why all the people?”

“It’s…” Dave paused. “It’s a whole human ritual, okay, where all the celebrities get dressed up and-“  
Karkat groaned loudly. “I have seen over 500 human romance and romcom movies since we got here, Dave, I _know_ what the red carpet is. I think you know that and are just avoiding the question.”  
“Yeah,” was all Dave said.  
Karkat started again, more cautiously. “Did you want to be famous? Back on Earth?”  
“Wow, excuse you,” said Dave, “I _am_ famous. I’ll have you know I ran several very successful blogs, not to mention that my webcomic was basically next in line for the Louvre.”  
“The what?”

“I’m sayin’ it was goddamn world renowned, bitch. On the cover of Time magazine, outstanding reviews from the President of the United States, et cetera. He wanted to come to my house and shake my hand, but I had to turn him down,” Dave shrugged. “Wouldn’t do to look too eager, you know how it is.”  
“Sure,” said Karkat.  
“I was like, sorry Brobama, my man, you know you’re my number one but I got a reputation, you feel?”  
“Did he feel?” Karkat asked boredly.  
“Hell yes he felt, me and the big man, we tight.” Dave sighed wistfully.

“That’s great,” said Karkat, “If you don’t want to talk about yourself, then can we get going? It’s late already and I can’t _wait_ to see the abominations your brain conjures for an Alternian landscape.”  
“Ch’yeah, whatever,” said Dave. “Remember all I got to go off of is some smutty novel covers, your descriptions, and a map that looks like it was drawn by a toddler with Parkinson’s.”  
“And an imagination that makes subjugglator chucklevoodoos look tame,” Karkat said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”

Dave sighed and plopped down right in the middle of the red carpet, sitting cross-legged and leaning back on one arm. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the map they’d drawn together, but in his mind’s eye all he could see were senseless, shifting scribbles. His own contributions he could picture well enough, different cities and towns connected by a random arrangement of forests, mountains, and desert, and marked with a scattered Eiffel Tower or Statue of Liberty just for good measure. Earth, abridged and without footnotes.

But everything “Alternia” seemed to get lost in its own vagueness. Karkat could talk about twin moons and fields of red all he wanted, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he’d make would fly right past hilariously bad and straight into the pit of unbearably awful. Karkat laughing at him was fine, was _great_ , actually- but Karkat being disappointed in him?

Hm.

Dave tried to focus on just one thing at a time. On the color and texture of stone. On the deep purple sky bleeding through the cover of clouds. God damn it, if only his aspect were Space and not Time. He could see the details just fine, but the big picture was a blurry, shifting fucking mess. What goddamn use had Time ever been to him, anyway? A few extra days to suffer through and some messier ways to get his ass killed.

“Huh,” said Karkat.

Dave opened his eyes. They were sitting across from each other on a precipice of stone overhanging the ocean, stained blood red by Alternia’s twilight. Tumultuous wind roared around them, pulling at their clothes and hair and hissing loudly against the face of the cliff. In the distance though, the waves were still. No tide, no motion at all, they were completely flat and lifeless- and further down a stretch of beach, the whole thing faded into an impenetrable black haze.

“Is that wind really necessary?” Karkat said, lowering his head to keep his hair from whipping around his face.  
“Uh, sorry-“ Dave said, taking a deep breath and focusing on muting the sound and stilling the air around them. He tried to focus on what he knew was the true air, the stale, dead atmosphere of his bedroom where they both currently slept. That helped a lot actually, though it took several minutes and he could tell Karkat was getting impatient.

“Are you okay?” asked Karkat, when finally it had stilled.  
“Haha, not usually,” said Dave. “Looks like I fucked this all sorts of up, wow.”  
“No?” said Karkat. “It’s not finished but it’s not bad. The colors especially are disturbingly accurate.”  
“Yeah,” said Dave with a dry laugh. “It’s basically just the cover of your smutty lesbian three-way.”  
“It’s not a ‘three-way’ Dave, if you’d actually read it you’d know that the girl in the middle is vacillating flushed and pale for her pupahood sweetheart, and flushed and black for her lover’s past attempt at a matespritship. The other two girls refuse to be in each other’s presence, that’s where the main conflict arises from.”  
“Yeah, well,” said Dave. “I’m starting to get the hang of your letter cipher but I’m a long way from reading a book, maybe if you read it out loud.”  
“Absolutely not,” said Karkat. “I’m not stupid, you’d either make fun of me or get off on it, and I’m not sure which is worse.”  
“Who says I can’t do both at once?” said Dave. “I’m a millennial baby, baby, we’re born multi-taskers.”  
“You’re disgusting,” said Karkat.

Dave shrugged and stood up, pacing idly to the very end of the cliffside. He let his toes hang over the edge, looking down into the still, near-black water, dyed maroon by an unseen sun.  
“Guess the Altearthia project is scrapped, then,” said Dave, running his fingers through his hair. “Can’t really do a whole island if I can’t even make an ocean that moves.”  
“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” said Karkat. “The Empire wasn’t built in a night.”  
“Yeah, but,” said Dave, “this isn’t real, though, this is fake shit dream garbage. I should be conjuring up freakin’ universes without thinking about it.”  
“And you will, eventually,” said Karkat, “but that’s not how dream walking works. You have to be able to let go of some control in order to let your subconscious do the heavy lifting, right now you’re stuck at all or nothing.”  
“Well I’m going to fuck it up if I’m not trying,” said Dave.

Dave flinched as a hand touched his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed Karkat standing up.  
“Who cares?” said Karkat. “So what? You fucked up in a dream where nobody but Karkat Vantas, laughing stock of the meteor was there to see it. That’s the whole point of dream walking, Dave, if you fuck up it doesn’t matter.”  
“Yeah,” said Dave, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. “Whatever, man, I don’t need a pep talk. I’m not a little kid, I can handle failure, it’s not the end of the world.”  
“Uh huh,” said Karkat. “That’s funny, because you look like the lone survivor of the apocalypse bemoaning the death of your people.”  
“Fuck off, I can stand on a cliff without being angsty about it,” said Dave.  
“Uh huh,” Karkat said again. “Listen, Dave. Stop trying to move the ocean, _nobody_ can. Stop thinking about it and it’ll move on its own.”  
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Dave said, turning to face him.

Karkat took a step forward and reached up to put a hand on his cheek.  
“Just look at me,” he said.  
“Uh…” said Dave, raising a questioning eyebrow, though he didn’t pull away.  
“Look at me and don’t think,” Karkat said, locking his gaze on Dave’s shades. “Shouldn’t be hard, if there’s anything you humans can do it’s not think.”

Dave had never noticed before just how full Karkat’s eyelashes were. They weren’t long, but they were thick and dark, framing the startling yellow of his eyes. His skin was such an odd texture from this close, and his fingertips against Dave’s jaw were rough, almost bristly rather than smooth like he expected skin to be.

Dave tried to turn his head away, only for Karkat to raise his other hand too and hold him there, staring straight forward.  
“Don’t look away, look at _me_ ,” Karkat insisted. “I’m the only thing here you’re not controlling, so if you can’t focus on nothing, focus on me.”  
“You sure you’re not comin’ on to me, cuz this is kinda intimate,” Dave tried to joke, but it didn’t feel like a joke. The intensity in Karkat’s gaze was making him uncomfortable.  
“Oh _please_ , Strider,” scoffed Karkat, “Not if the fate of Paradox Space depended on it.”

Dave took in a deep breath and let it out as an exasperated sigh, but didn’t argue with him. It _was_ kind of cool to examine a troll up close and see all their strange, alien quirks. Their humanoid shape made it easy to forget sometimes that they were genuine beings from another world and not just humans painted grey. Up close it was much harder to hold that conviction. Still, he avoided looking into Karkat’s eyes even though it was obvious that’s what he thought was happening.

Focus on Karkat. Nothing but Karkat and his bushy eyebrows and small nub of a nose. On his- not on his lips, but on his teeth, sure, and on his cheekbones. Were all trolls this… sharp? He couldn’t remember.

He was trying to visualize Vriska and Terezi in his head when he suddenly heard the sound of rushing waves.

Karkat let him pull away, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. The foam of the water crashing against the rocks was brilliant pink, and there was even a taste of salt in the air. Dave stared out at it for a few seconds, and then performed a dramatic fist pump.

“Eat shit, ocean,” he called out over the edge, breaking into a brief fit of triumphant giggles.  
“Hey, Dave,” said Karkat. “Let’s go walk on the beach.”  
“That sounds like a date,” Dave said, a little giddy.  
“Fine,” said Karkat. “I’ll go by myself. You stay up here and talk to water like an imbecile.”

Karkat moved to the adjoining cliff overlooking the beach and crouched down next to it. Then Dave watched with mounting alarm as he suddenly threw himself over the edge.  
“Holy fuck,” he said, rushing over- in time to see Karkat land on his feet as if the drop had been nothing more than a step.  
“It’s a dream!” Karkat called back up to him, hands around his mouth. “Get your ass down here!”  
Dave still preferred to fly rather than jump, controlling the slow angle of his descent so that he touched down next to Karkat. A slight breeze had returned to the air, this one pleasant and refreshing compared to the earlier whirlwind.

They hadn’t walked far- which was fine, there wasn’t far to go- when Karkat suddenly stopped, pointing out into the sea foam.  
“What’s that?” Karkat said, abandoning his position next to Dave to rush out and inspect whatever it was he’d spotted.  
“Uh,” said Dave, who hadn’t been trying to conjure anything. He narrowed his eyes to see what Karkat was looking at.  
“Look at him, he’s so small!” Karkat said in awe, crouching at a distance from an abnormal lump of red in the sand. “Look at his little claws, Dave!”  
Dave paced up next to Karkat, looking down at it, and when he realized what it was he laughed. “An Earth crab on an Alternian beach, yeah I’ll bet he’s small.”

Karkat planted himself in the sand, abandoning all pursuits of walking the beach. The crab wasn’t doing anything, just lazing about half-buried in the sand, but Karkat seemed mystified.  
“Dare you to touch it,” said Dave.  
“I’m not touching it,” Karkat said, shoving at his leg.  
“Why? Scared he’ll get ya?”  
“ _No_. Fuck off and stop harassing nature, he’s just doing his thing,” said Karkat.  
Dave laughed and sank down next to him, shaking his head.

They were both silent for a long while, just watching the little crab’s mouth move as it lazily blew bubbles in the sand.  
And then Dave said, “So I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”  
“Yeah?” said Karkat, without looking up.  
“Do moirails hold hands?”

That was enough to get Karkat’s attention. He turned his head to Dave, eyebrows furrowed, and gave a crooked frown.  
“Sometimes. Why?” he said.  
“I dunno, I’ve been thinking about, like,” Dave shifted awkwardly. “Alright I should preface this by saying that I’m probably about to be massively ignorant-“  
“Surprise.”  
“-so if you want to tell me to go eat my own ass, feel free to announce anal consumption time like you’re my vigilant ass secretary any time you want.” Dave took a deep breath. “I don’t know. The way I’ve always thought about it, is like. I think I’ve been thinking about everything all wrong. People, I mean. I guess I just assumed that everything is sort of tiered. You’ve got your friends, then your best friend, and then your girlfriend. Or, uh, boyfriend. Datefriend? Whatever, that’s not the point I’m trying to make right now.”

Dave leaned back on his hands, letting his fingers curl into the sand.  
“Anyway I guess I just mentally slotted in the troll quadrants like a few extra rungs on the ladder because _honestly_ I like the idea of there being a step in between best friend and mate-datefriends. But I guess it’s not like that, they’re all sort of equal, like you’ve taken the ladder and sat it on its side and I think I really like that. Not assigning ranks to everything like it’s some kind of competition where only one person wins.”  
“Sure,” said Karkat, uncertainly.  
“Like…” Dave continued. “Like… I kind of always knew that was bullshit, cuz I love John a whole lot and I can’t imagine a girlfriend would have ever been _more_ important than that. –But, uh, I’m getting sidetracked. What was I saying?”  
“Hands,” said Karkat. “Holding hands.”

Dave gave a long, quiet hum.  
“I was thinking about, just for fun, what if humans did or could do the whole quadrant thing? Like, I have no idea who most of mine would be. I still don’t even wanna touch all that hate date business and I don’t know the difference between datefriend stuff and matesprit stuff other than that there probably _is_ a difference? But moirails. I keep imagining what that would be like, and I imagine it’s like. Sharing popcorn at the movies and holding hands at bus stops. Do you get what I’m saying?”  
“Hm,” said Karkat thoughtfully. “Well... You’re not wrong. You’re not… right?”

Karkat shifted to get more comfortable, turning to face Dave rather than looking back at him over his shoulder.  
“It’s all about balance,” he said. “It’s generally believed that what you look for in quadrant partners are, a matesprit who highlights your strengths, a kismesis who minimizes your weaknesses, and a moirail who compliments your extremes. So it’s less about what things are things ‘moirails’ do, and more about the way all your relationships work together in a single system to balance you out as a person, which is one of the reasons why an auspistice is so important. But focusing on moirallegiances since that’s what you’re asking about… Yeah, a moirail would do those kinds of things with you. Or a matesprit, there is some crossover in the day to day functions of red relationships. Your Moirail helps you understand yourself, where typically concupiscent relations are very volatile and confusing as fuck to put it lightly. You could even go as far as to say that you _are_ yourself more with your Moirail than with anyone else, because you’re focused on quelling your extremes rather than exemplifying them for the sake of being impressive, or sexually appealing, or whatever.”

“See,” said Dave. “That’s what I’m talking about. In human dating you’re somehow expected to do the sex stuff and the profound bonding stuff like… at the same time? I never got that, and like, what you’re saying about feeling like yourself? I never felt like that with a girl, it’s always balls to the walls preening and flexing. The person I always felt the most myself around was… Okay. Karkat, you have to swear to me you’ll never breathe a word of this to anybody. I am _trusting_ you here, this is some solidly bro-fidential information.”  
“Who am I going to tell?” said Karkat.  
“ _Seriously_ ,” said Dave. “This is private. No one hears a word about this ever.”  
“Okay, whatever,” said Karkat.

Dave looked away from him, running his fingers through his hair.  
“Well,” he said sheepishly. “John. That’s what… That’s… what I wanted to ask about. I genuinely… This isn’t more ‘no homo’ bullshit, I’m basically over that. I’ve never had any sexy thoughts about John or anything like that, but I have thought about. Well. Those things I said, about moirails. It is some _solidly_ human gay stuff to say you want to hold hands with your best friend. And I don’t want… It’s not like… I…”  
Dave broke off in a shuddering sigh. “...Nope, there it goes. It’s gone. Whatever I was saying has left the building because I am just rambling about who knows what now, wow.”

“Dave,” Karkat said gently.  
“Actually let’s just forget all of that,” said Dave. “Let’s go back to looking at crabs. I had a crab molt once, it was really cool. It ended up getting knocked off the shelf and stepped on but it was super neat, you could see all the details on it like where scars were, and I used to like to make up stories about how it got them. Like he had these bite marks on him, I swear they were from a shark. How the fuck did he beat a shark? That thing was chewing right on him, did he like, punch it in the nose like they tell you to do on the discovery channel? What a badass.”

“Dave,” Karkat said again. “It’s okay to be troll gay for John. The way you feel about a potential quadrant mate has priority over any of the supposed ‘rules’ anyway, and it sounds to me like you think you already know the answer to the question you can’t ask. If humans can have moirails… John’s probably yours. Is that really so surprising?”  
“I…” Dave bit his lip. “I guess you’re right. Fuck, though, we used to joke about it _all the time_ , and it’s like. Even if it’s not penises in buttholes that is not an okay thing for humans. Well, maybe girls hold hands, how should I know. But human guys do not do that, so it’s still kinda… a little human gay. It is definitely really human gay so you can’t tell John, _ever_ , okay?”

“ _Dave_ ,” said Karkat firmly. “Calm down. John’s an obvious choice, even from an outsider’s perspective. He has a lot of really desirable traits for a moirail.”  
“…Yeah?” said Dave.  
“For one,” said Karkat. “It’s impossible to be mad around him. Which, take it from me, is _infuriating_. All I wanted to do was hate his goofball ass but he just wouldn’t stop being so excruciatingly _John_!”  
Dave laughed. “Right, though? It’s like, you go into a conversation with him steaming mad and bemoaning your own existence, and fifteen minutes later he’s got you laughing your ass off over pictures of dogs wearing tights.”  
“In fact,” said Karkat, “If I hadn’t been so caught up in other… things, I mean I can’t deny that I’ve thought about… Um. Nevermind.”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Dave. “Did you seriously have a thing for John? Shit, dude. Jade, Terezi, _and_ John? This is gonna be a problem, man. How are we supposed to be bros with all this type overlap?”  
“Trolls will sometimes battle to the death over a potential quadrant mate,” offered Karkat.  
“Man I hope I don’t have to battle you to the death,” said Dave, smiling at him. “You’re kind of the best.”  
“Uh.” Karkat looked away quickly, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, just a little. “You’re not bad either. For a human.”


	14. XIII: Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is the first update after Act 7, but the plot outline wants what the plot outline wants.

“I’m just saying,” Dave was saying, twirling his spoon in the air as if to accentuate his point. “You can talk natural order to me all you want, but Jerry does some real fucked up shit.”  
“It’s not fucked up!” Karkat insisted, gesticulating with both hands. “It’s an absolutely token kismesissitude. Push and pull, run and chase. It’d be different if the aim were to kill, but it’s obvious from the way they act and react to each other that they both _need_ one another. Neither of them ever _dies_ , they just keep each other on their toes. That’s the way kismesissitudes are supposed to function.”  
“Yeah, but there’s some straight up sadistic shit,” said Dave. “You can’t tell me Tom _likes_ eating a stick of dynamite in place of his daily multivitamin.”  
“As long as it’s consensual and acts to further the both of them as individuals, it’s perfectly healthy,” said Karkat.

“No way,” said Dave. “No. Sit me the fuck down and show me where in Tom and Jerry the cat consents to getting beat with a hammer.” He paused, lips pressing into a thin line. “Though now that you mention it I am recalling an awful lot of spanking, that’s pretty BDSM territory even if it isn’t troll hatemance.”  
“Which it is,” said Karkat.  
“Not,” said Dave.  
“Absolutely is,” said Karkat. “If it’s anything like the troll version, or exactly like the troll version as far as I can tell, the baldtail and purrbeast are clashing bulges the second the end title falls.”  
“God, how fucking weird is it that that’s a cartoon that transcends universes?” Dave said, leaning back against the couch. He was sitting real cozy, facing Karkat with one leg up on the seat, a bowl of ice cream balanced between his thighs.

Karkat meanwhile was sitting stiffly on the far end, hating the way his pulse pounded in his chest from just listening to Dave talk about some stupid cartoon. He hated it especially because while the arguing wasn't really black, he didn’t think it was exactly platonic on his end either. Though it felt more likely that he’d cough up a vestigial set of graspappendages from his thorax before he could produce an answer to what it _actually_ was.

It didn’t help that ever since talking to Dave on the beach, he couldn’t fight the feeling that every conversation they had was one Dave would much rather have had with John. It was so obvious that that’s what he was to Dave, anyway. The sub-standard Replacement John to tide him over until the real thing was back in his life. Karkat had _known that_ going into this, so why had he ever allowed himself to hang on Dave’s words like they were really meant for him?

It was just that ‘moirail’ had almost started to feel like a reasonable thing Dave could be for him, maybe the only quadrant Dave could actually function in with another male. Talking to Dave on the roof that night had felt like… 

But it didn’t matter. It was stupid of him to ever even think it could have been that way to begin with. Why did he always do this? Why couldn’t he just _stop_? Why wasn’t there a bugwinged off switch for these useless fucking feelings?

“You alright, dude?” Dave said, pulling Karkat out of his silent self-flagellation.  
“Mind your own business, Strider,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes.  
“Hey, now,” said Dave. “Bros don’t let bros wrestle with their inner monologue in public. Shit’s embarrassing, you gotta do that in your respiteblock.”  
“I’d never leave it if that were true,” Karkat said dryly.  
“Do you need to like, talk about it?” Dave said with a frown. Karkat grimaced in an impressive display of his teeth.  
“Absolutely not,” said Karkat. “What’s embarrassing is the fact that you can’t stop pale flirting with me. You’re making a fool of yourself, but more importantly you’re making a fool of me and I really don’t appreciate it, ‘bro.’”  
“Lighten up, man,” Dave said, reaching over with his free hand to pat him twice on the back before retreating. “Friends can talk about shit, it’s no big deal.”

Karkat wanted to yell at him, to scream in his face all the reasons that yes, actually, it was a big fucking deal- but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t push Dave away when he was holding the door open to keep _pretending_ that they were actually something. It was absolutely awful that he was taking advantage of Dave’s human naïveté, but the thought of never having another moment on a rooftop was too much to bear.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said instead. “Not about this, though, it’s-“  
He was cut off by the sound of a transportalizer whirring to life.  
“There you are!” Vriska said, pointing not to Karkat, but at Dave. “Where the hell have you been hiding?”  
“Uh, nowhere?” Dave said, taken aback. “What the shit are you talking about, I’ve just been doing my normal thing.”  
“Wrong answer!” said Vriska. “We’re going to start on your new normal thing today, it’s been ages and everyone else has already done it. Even Rose.”  
“Done what?” said Dave.

Vriska shook her head, running her fingers through her hair and then tossing it back over her shoulder.  
“Don’t play games with me, Strider,” she said. “Maybe you have some sort of death wish, and that’s your own business, but when I said everyone is training, I meant _everyone_ is training. They’re all training. Everybody’s training, Dave.”  
Dave ignored the obvious quote bait, which under any other circumstances might have worked on him even coming from Vriska. Training. Fight training. Training to fight, with swords and shit.  
Um, right.

Dave swallowed heavily.  
“Nah,” he said.  
“I’m sorry,” said Vriska. “Did I ask your opinion? Karkat, did I ask his opinion?”  
Karkat glared at her and opened his mouth to respond before even knowing what to say, but she cut him off.  
“No,” she said. “I absolutely didn’t! I said we’re training now, and we _are_ training now, so that we don’t all die and double die, d-e-a-d, dead, forever dead because _someone_ thinks he’s too much of a special snowflake to do _mandatory_ training!”  
Karkat jumped to his feet and stood between them as Vriska stomped over.  
“Go stuff your nook with an acidshrub, Serket! He doesn’t have to train with you if he doesn’t want to!” Karkat shouted, a little too defensively, and Vriska raised her eyebrows at him.

“Wow, this is just sad,” she said. “I see how it is, _you’re_ going to stand in between Strider and Jack then, right? You couldn’t even stand against me using my off hand for more than thirty seconds. Sheesh, how pathetic do you have to be to recruit Vantas as your body guard?”  
“He’s not my body guard,” Dave said coldly, rising to his feet and stepping out from behind Karkat. “You want to fight me that bad? Time and place, bitch.”  
“I cleared the third floor lab just for this,” Vriska said, grinning at him. “Meet me there in… Eight minutes.”  
And with that victory secured she turned, waved, and vanished back the way she’d come.

“You don’t have to fight her,” Karkat said immediately, turning on Dave.  
“Obliviously I do,” said Dave. “I’m not stupid, she isn’t gonna get off my case until I do.”  
“She’s not going to get off your case _if_ you do,” countered Karkat. “She’s Vriska, there’ll always be something.”  
“How about you keep your nose out of it?” Dave dismissed. “I don’t need someone to fight my battles for me, verbal or physical, and I can handle a little sparring match against Vriska Serket no problem.”  
“Fine, I don’t care,” said Karkat, slouching back onto the couch. “Let Vriska push you around, be my guest.”

Dave didn’t even bother answering him before striding off the way Vriska had gone and leaving Karkat with Dave’s melting ice cream as his only company. His first instinct was to pick it up and throw it across the room, but he didn’t even know why he was so mad. What did it matter to him if Dave sparred with Vriska?

He’d been staring at the bowl for several minutes when it registered to him just how weird it was for Dave to waste food like that.

 

\---

 

Dave’s sword was in his hand for the first time since setting foot on the meteor. It was strange to him just how easy it had been for him to summon it. Like he’d never stopped. Like he hadn’t woken in the night so many times dreading the weight of it in his palm. It felt so familiar there now, less an object and more an extension of himself. The way it was supposed to be.

Sword fighting was supposed to be what he did. Sword fighting was supposed to be what he was. So why did the creak of metal from his ceiling at night make him sick to his stomach? Why did he feel dizzy now, standing here, when this should have been more natural than pissing in the morning? It had been, once. In another life. Not another _Dave’s_ life, it wasn’t like that. More like another person’s entirely. His hands remembered the grip of a hilt, but he felt more alien and out of place with it than he had standing on Alternia’s beach.

None of this showed in his stance or in the stoic lines of his expression. He stood at the ready, feet spaced evenly and elbows bent, carefully eyeing Vriska who was doing the same. She didn’t hold a sword right, he noticed. Not like someone who had been trained with it since the day he was old enough to lift one, just a girl with a hobby who thought bringing out a cutlass was quirky and fun.

He didn’t wait for her to make the first strike. That was a coward’s way of fighting, and it never would have worked against _him_. Not that attacking first had ever won him any favors, either, not when his target moved so quickly it was impossible to track it with his eyes. Vriska parried the first move easily, but he’d known that she would. At least he was closer now, close enough to strike with his footwork planted securely.

Focus on the footwork. Focus on the stance. Don’t focus on the sound of metal on metal and the sweat beading between your fingers. Dave zeroed in solely on the familiar movements, letting muscle memory be his guide because his brain was having none of it. Luckily his instinct was far more honed than his conscious mind. It was almost easy, _almost_ easy to fall right back into the routine. Dodge, one step forward, and thrust. Parry, retreat, sidestep.

Vriska was no beginner, but she was nothing like _him_. She made stupid, obvious mistakes, telegraphed by the way she breathed or the way she stood. He was winning, and this didn’t even strike him as surprising. An hour ago it would have. An hour ago he would have thought nothing short of Jack actually catching up with them would get the damn thing back in his hand.

It was easy, and that was… he didn’t want to think about it.

The fight was short, and it was a good goddamn thing because his jaw was aching from clenching his teeth and he thought he might have actually forgotten how to breathe had that not been part of his training as well. He could barely even recall how he’d come to be standing this way, over Vriska, a foot on her chest and the tip of his sword pressed against her throat.

“Don’t ask me to fight again,” Dave said coolly, captchaloguing his sword before the tip could start to shake. He could feel it in his fingertips already, in his spine. The fight was over, the fight was won, it was time to go.

He turned in a dramatic sweep of his cape, and to his credit, he didn’t start to run until the door was closed behind him.

He ran until it hurt, and then kept running even past that, letting the burn in his throat and the ache in his muscles be the only thing that held him in reality. Everything hurt. How did everything hurt? It had been a five minute fucking fight. Ten minutes. Fifteen? Normally he would have known, would have known down to the second if he focused but he couldn’t focus on anything. It had felt like forever. It had felt like an instant. His sword arm itched in his palm and in his fingers with a phantom ache like he was being shaken apart.

Then he stopped or maybe he fell, either way he was lying on the ground, on his side with his knees curled to his chest. _He_ was there in every shadow, and oh, the hallway was full of them. There even if he couldn’t see him. Of course he was, he was always there.

He was dead, but he was there just the same.

“Dave!” shouted a voice from far away. Dave heard it as if through water, a nonsense syllable in no way related to him. There was a shadow over him but that didn’t matter, there were so many shadows, and _he_ was too fast to react to. If he wanted to hit him, he would hit him. There was no escape.

“Dave!” A hand on his shoulder. Dave flinched and smacked it away, hissing harshly between his teeth like it had been a slap to a sunburn. He was shaking so badly he couldn’t even think of trying to get away. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t- couldn’t-

“Dave Strider, look at me!”  
Dave looked, even if he couldn’t place the voice or the face he was looking at. Grey skin, yellow eyes. Not him, someone else. Someone…  
“Look at me, and don’t think,” the voice repeated, and it was familiar. Something to latch on to. Grey skin, yellow eyes, small nubby horns. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just focus on me. I’m here.”  
Dave lurched forward without even thinking, grabbing and clinging to Karkat’s shoulders so tightly even the stubs of his bitten nails had to be digging into him. He didn’t say anything, just stared, eyes wide and frantic behind his dark glasses.

Karkat didn’t try to pull away or even to touch him again, just held his gaze unwaveringly, breathing long, soothing sounds like hushed whispers. Dave didn’t know what they were supposed to mean, but they were something constant to focus on outside of the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. Karkat. Karkat was there. Karkat was…

“Whaa?” Dave mumbled, grip clenching tighter, and then loosening slightly.  
“Don’t try to talk, just breathe,” Karkat told him, and he listened because arguing was out of the question, way beyond his facilities at that moment. “Listen to me breathe, and breathe with me.”  
Yellow eyes, grey skin, thick brows, dark lips. Karkat. Breathing. Slow, deep breaths, in and then out. In… and then out.

“Karkat,” Dave groaned. “Where… Where the fuck did you come from?”  
“Dumbass, I was waiting for you outside the lab,” said Karkat. “And then you took off running like a crazy person and wouldn’t answer me, so of course I followed you.”  
“Oh,” said Dave, struggling to digest the words. “Why?”  
“Because you’re obviously panicstruck.”  
“I’m what?”  
“I don’t know if there’s a human word for it,” Karkat said. “I thought it was a troll thing. But even if I’m not your moirail, I’m not going to let you freak out and hurt yourself.”  
“Huh,” said Dave.

“Are you okay now?” Karkat asked.  
Dave didn’t answer. Instead he jerked away from Karkat so that he could roll to his knees, hunched over on the ground.  
“Dave?”

And then he threw up, no warning, just a single heave that splattered onto the floor and splashed onto his hands, which made him gag and choke and heave again until his stomach was empty. His only thought, looking at it, was _what a fucking waste of ice cream_.


	15. XIV: Soothe

Karkat hadn’t felt this fucking helpless since he’d been cradling Sollux at the foot of the stairs and trying to jam his stupid broken teeth back into his awful bleeding mouth. Dave was Not Okay. He was pretty much as  _not okay_  as it was possible to be, and Karkat didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do about it. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but the way Dave had flinched away from him before stung him like a physical blow. Dave wasn’t a troll. He couldn’t just pap his cheek and fix this.

Useless. Completely fucking useless to everyone that had ever needed him. Why would now be any different?

For fuck’s sake, now was not the time to be agonizing over his own stupid problems. Self-pity could come later when his… his… his  _friend_ wasn’t kneeling in his own vomit and shaking like he was about to crumble into dust.

“ _Dave_ ,” Karkat pleaded, and it was so bugwinged  _fucked up_ that he was looking to Dave for a solution to this when Dave was the one with a problem in the first place.  
“I-I-I’m alright,” Dave slurred, and the disconcerting thing was that, other than the way his voice bounced with every syllable, Dave sounded absolutely resolute. “Fucking christ, remind me to never eat troll ice cream right before a fight again. My guts feel like a bunch of angry snakes trying to hate-fuck each other to death.”

This was  _not_ the way a person acted when they were sick to their acidic gastrosac. Karkat wasn’t fucking stupid, he knew the variances between trolls and humans weren't so vast that he wouldn't be able to tell the difference. But what was he supposed to do? Accuse Dave of lying? What good would that do? That’d just piss him off and drive him away, and Karkat didn’t think Dave could afford to be alone right now. 

Dave had managed to force himself back into a sitting position, wiping the bile from his lips, but outside of that he seemed frozen, staring down into his own mess like it was a fathomless void. Karkat didn't need to be able to see Dave's eyes to sense the vacancy behind them.

And then Dave was scooting back away from it, shuffling backwards on his knees and bumping into Karkat almost on accident until the bump turned into a slouch against his shoulder, leaning all his weight against him just to stay upright. Karkat was afraid to touch him, but he wrapped an arm around his back to steady him anyway, palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades.

“Wow, sorry,” said Dave. “Guess fighting Vriska’s a little more intense than I expected, I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”  
“It’s okay,” Karkat said quickly. “It’s fine, just lean against me. You’re alright.”  
Dave just nodded, tucking his forehead into the crook of his neck. His breathing was shallow, like he couldn’t seem to force the air in deep enough, and to Karkat it really did feel like he might literally shake himself apart. 

Karkat’s chest ached with how much he needed to  _do something_. He wasn’t Dave's moirail, and that was fine, but John wasn’t here and Dave needed this  _now_.

“Dave,” Karkat said hesitantly, trying to force his naturally harsh voice into a soothing whisper for him. It didn’t work, but he tried anyway. “Is it okay if I touch you?”  
Normally he would have expected a 'hilarious' retort, or at least some acknowledgement that what he’d said was crossing human male-male platonic boundaries. But all Dave did was nod again. The gesture felt weak and kittenish.

Karkat pulled Dave up against him more securely, cradling his back in one arm and letting his head droop limply to rest against his chest. His other hand reached up to brush Dave’s hair off of his sweaty forehead. It felt so dreamlike that Dave was actually letting him do this, except there was no way Dave would act this way in a dream, either.

At that moment, Karkat decided resolutely that he wasn’t going to let his stupid pale aspirations get in the way of this. His own feelings didn’t matter one bulge-blistering fuck. As intimate as this felt for him, it was probably still perfectly platonic to a human. Otherwise, would Dave really be letting him do it? Even if he  _was_ panicstruck?

“Can I try something really… alien?” Karkat asked him, trying to meet his eyes. He couldn’t tell at all where Dave was looking behind those shades. Dave's mind could be somewhere else entirely, for all he knew. It felt that way. Not like he was holding Dave, but like he was holding something hollow that Dave had left behind.  
“…Yeah,” Dave said lifelessly. Karkat was just glad that he’d managed to find a word to answer him with instead of another empty nod.  
“Okay,” Karkat said. “Stop me if it gets weird, I won’t be offended. The fucking point is to help you, so…”  
“Yeah,” Dave said again.

 

\---

 

Dave swore he could hear a clock ticking. He knew it wasn’t a clock, that it was just his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he could swear it sounded like ticking and he fucking hated the sound. He loathed the racket of his own breathing as he choked for air, but he couldn’t quiet it. It was like he wasn’t breathing air at all, but instead was sucking in lungfuls of sand. 

But Karkat was there, something solid to focus on. The world was swimming in a blur but Karkat stayed sharply in focus, the only real thing in a dream.

Karkat was making that sound again. A sort of shushing sound, breathy and resonating with this strange, alien rasp in the back of his throat. Karkat’s palm was pressed flat to his cheek, his fingertips stroking softly along his cheekbone and down along his jaw. Soft touches, gentle pats and rubs, like he was trying to brush the dust off an insect’s fragile wing. It  _was_ alien, and it was kind of weird too, but not in a bad way. Not in a way where he wanted him to stop.

It felt so  _nice_  to be touched in a way that wasn’t meant to hurt. Some part of him thought he should be offended that Karkat was handling him like he was made out of glass, because for fuck’s sake he wasn’t some broken china doll. But being touched so carefully, like he was something precious and delicate, felt so inexplicably wonderful that he couldn’t imagine ever asking Karkat to stop. 

Something was humming, or- not really humming, more like vibrating. A noise that was so low that it was less a sound at all and more a thrum. A reassuring resonance that pulsed through his body along with his heartbeat. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that that, too was coming from Karkat, and that he could feel it so strongly because he was pressed right up against his chest. He wasn’t sure what to call it, not a purr, but something like it maybe. 

Weird. Alien. But not bad. Not bad at all. He closed his eyes, and slowly, the tightness in his chest began to loosen. The feel of Karkat’s thrumming blotted out the ticking clocks, and his touch was so careful, so gentle that his body could no longer tense and react as if he were going to be struck. Not by Karkat. Not by this strange, buzzing alien.

Dave reached up a hand, and let it fall to rest against Karkat’s cheek in turn, eyes opening again to look up into Karkat’s. Had anyone ever looked at him with that much concern before? Had anyone in his life ever really cared that he was lying on the ground shuddering and drenched in sweat? Had he ever given anyone a chance to? He'd always shrugged off any shows of concern, framing them as jokes until jokes were exactly what they’d become. But...

Dave Strider was so fucking tired. He was tired of pretending he was okay.  
No one had ever looked at him like that before.

All the signals in his brain were shorted out, and he felt like maybe a wire had gotten crossed somewhere as he leaned up toward Karkat, thinking that he had to thank him. And it felt weird, and alien, but it didn’t feel wrong.

He pressed his lips against Karkat’s, even though he didn’t know how to kiss, even though boys didn’t kiss boys, even though his mouth still tasted like stomach acid and bile. A distant part of his mind whispered at him that you were supposed to close your eyes when you kissed, but he kept his eyes open, caught every detail of Karkat’s own eyes going impossibly wide, his hand falling away from his cheek.

He felt like he was floating when Karkat dropped him, drifting down softly into his lap, or like he was staying completely still and it was Karkat that was falling away.  
Karkat stared down at him with a hand clamped over his mouth, gawking dumbly in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Hey, Karkat,” Dave mumbled blearily. “Do moirails kiss?”

Now it was Karkat’s turn to shake, both hands clamped over his mouth, both eyes wide and round as saucers. His fingers curled into contorted claws as he pried them away from his mouth enough to speak. Just one word, one syllable, yelped like the unrefined squawk of a parrot.

“No,” he said.

 

\---

When Dave sat up it felt like breaking out of a trance.   
Lapses in time weren’t uncommon for him, especially after fights, which probably had whatever mega-deities of Paradox Space that had decided to dub him a master of it laughing their metaphysical fucking tits off. All he knew for certain was that he’d fucked up again in glorious Striderian style.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t know why I did that,” Dave said, scooting back away from Karkat, who obviously didn’t want to be anywhere near him after he'd surprise smooched him for the second time completely unsolicited. The worst thing was that it was a complete lie, he knew  _exactly_ why he’d done it. Because in the moment it had felt like the obvious thing to do. The  _only_ thing to do. Because he’d wanted to do it.

And fuck, he wasn’t even sure if he regretted it.

“It’s fine,” Karkat squeaked, even though it was obviously not fine. “Just, uh, just- just. No. No, Dave. I mean. I guess moirails could kiss if they really wanted to, but not like uh, not like that, and not during a soothing, it’s not- it’s not, uh- it’s not normal. No. But it’s. It’s fine. You didn’t know.”  
“Jesus fuck, I’m sorry,” Dave said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  
“Anyway, you’re not my moirail,” Karkat said, and Dave wasn’t sure if it was him Karkat was trying to convince or himself. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have- it was  _incredibly_ over the line for me to-  _fuck!_ ”

“Thank you,” Dave said, completely out of context at this point, though it was what he should have said in the first place. He still didn’t feel entirely present in his own mind or body, but he was here enough to know that he had to clean this up fast or vomit wouldn’t be the only mess he made in the hall. He thought it might literally kill him to watch Karkat have a breakdown after being so calm and patient while talking him out of his own.

“What?” said Karkat.  
“I said thank you,” Dave repeated, not actually sure if it had been clear. Had he been slurring? It was pretty likely that he could have been.  
“No, I heard you,” Karkat said, “For what, though? Don’t fucking thank me, Dave, I just completely violated you while you were vulnerable!”  
“Hush your fuckin’ shouty mouth,” said Dave. “Nobody violated anyone, okay? I had a really dumb, pointless fit over nothing and this really great alien dude helped me out of it. That’s all.”

“I’m  _not_ your moirail,” Karkat said more firmly. “Friends can lightly soothe each other and that’s just fine, but I  _never_ should have forced myself on you like that!”  
“Sorry, what?” said Dave. “My memory’s pretty foggy already but I’m  _pretty sure_ I consented like, several times, at least once out loud.”  
“A human can’t consent to that!” Karkat shouted at him. “You didn’t know what you were doing. You weren’t in your right mind. You still don’t know because you’re an  _alien_ and you don’t understand  _anything!_ ”  
“Harsh,” Dave said. “Okay, you win. You moiraillested me. I’m traumatized.”  
“You should be,” Karkat said sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thanks, though, for doing it,” Dave insisted. “Wish I could say it’s out of character for me to curl up on the ground in the grips of existential agony, but I guess it’s really fuckin’ not, so… Thanks.”  
Karkat didn’t reply, just cast his eyes to the ground, embarrassed and ashamed that Dave could be so fucking clueless.   
“Listen, Karkat, maybe if I were a troll this would be a legit thing to freak out about,” Dave said, “but I’m not. I’m just a stupid human who doesn’t have the emotional depth to be properly moi-groped so the best you got was to cop a friendly feelings feel which was totally reciprocated so it’s  _fine_.”

“If you say so,” Karkat grumbled.  
“And I guess I’m uh, enlightened as to why moo malls are considered romantic,” Dave said, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “So uh, sorry for imposing my gross human baggage on your cool alien shoosh paps.”  
“Yeah,” was all Karkat could manage to say to that.  
“Are we cool?” said Dave. “Cuz I really,  _really_ need us to be cool, you’re kind of my best fucking friend right now and I’m gonna do an acrobatic fucking pirouette right off this shitty meteor if I fucked that up.”  
“ _You_ didn’t fuck anything up, Dave,” Karkat said impatiently. “I'm the one that-“

Dave reached up and tapped his palm lightly against Karkat’s cheek, his expression so incredibly serious and grave it was almost funny.  
“No, you didn’t,” he said. “So we’re cool then.”  
“ _Dave_ ,” Karkat whined.  
“ _Karkat_ ,” Dave mocked in a high, nasally voice. “Jesus Christ. So you had a pale-rom encounter with a human and I had a gay moment with a troll. We’re pullin’ all sorts of unexpected plot twists out of our outrageous personal baggage, but I’m thinking we can either freak out about it, maybe stop being friends for a while and mope and hate every second of it, or we can build a bridge and fucking get over it, go back to being best bros who sometimes like to pap or smooch when we’re feeling really emotional. Why does it have to be such a big fucking deal?”

“I fucking hate you, Dave!” Karkat shouted, pulling at his hair. “Why do you have to be so unreasonable about this!?”  
“Fuckin’ sue me for wanting to preserve the only good thing in my fucking life by not making a federal fucking issue over a little romantic tension!” Dave snapped. 

Karkat shouted wordlessly, eyes winced shut and fingers curled like claws against his scalp. And then he lurched forward, grabbing Dave by the shoulders, and kissed him hard on the mouth, their teeth clacking together painfully in the process.

“You’re so fucking confusing!” Karkat wailed as he pulled away.  
“Tell me about it,” Dave said, a little winded.  
“Fuck you!”  
“Not on the first date.”

Karkat shoved him away and turned his back on him, burying his face in his hands.  
After a long pause, he said, “I’m not dating you until you brush your teeth. You taste like something the lusus dragged in!” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fanart](http://ajhebard.tumblr.com/post/145080134410/some-gay-boys-kissin-scene-from-chapter-15-of) by [ajhebard](http://ajhebard.tumblr.com/)!


	16. XV: Observe

Spending the evening with Karkat had been… nice. In standard Dave fashion, they hadn’t talked much about anything serious; Karkat had helped him clean up his mess and then they’d left all those freshly opened cans of worms behind them in the hallway for some future Dave and Karkat to try and stumble through.

Instead Karkat had sat him down in front of a movie. Each of them had shared a headphone and they’d sat shoulder to shoulder. Dave couldn’t remember which movie it had been. He’d ended up falling asleep less than twenty minutes in, and woken up with his head on Karkat’s shoulder and Karkat watching him with wide, concerned eyes.

He’d had panic attacks that bad or worse before, but what he’d never had was someone to lean against in the aftermath. No probing questions, just quiet acceptance and gentle touches.

Dave didn’t really think much about anything until he was back in his room, alone for the first time since it had happened. Away from Karkat for the first time since he’d kissed him, and Karkat had kissed back. He felt so sluggish and heavy that he thought he might pass out even before making it to the bed.

All the comfort of Karkat’s presence filtered away the moment he was out of sight, and now, alone in the dark, all his fears and doubts came flooding back with a vengeance.

The one thing that he couldn’t do was deny that he had felt… something. No matter how fucked up he’d been, he had felt _something_ and it felt like two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. Not a solution to any big picture, but one small answer, the beginning of something unfogging.

Unfortunately, one answer opened up so many more questions. The biggest of which was the obvious- what next? Where were they supposed to go from here? They couldn’t go back, even though some part of him wished that they could. They’d opened the door of Pandora’s Closet and the gay had been released, irreversibly. But what he still lacked was a definition- or, he guessed, what he really wanted was an explanation.

Kissing Karkat? That’d been great. Impulsive, reckless, stupid, the last thing he ever would have done had he been thinking clearly. But great. Having sex with Karkat? Yikes, no. Maybe it was because he was still thirteen, just a kid- but then, he was fairly certain most kids his age would be mulling over sexy thoughts about their crush by now regardless.

But hey, moirails didn’t have sex. And moirails could still be in… could still have feelings for each other. Plus that whole papping thing? Definitely something he needed in his life way more than the usual datefriend shtick. But apparently moirails didn’t kiss, and he’d kissed Karkat- and Karkat had kissed him back.

What the fuck did that mean? What did _Karkat_ want out of this?

Dave pulled his pillow over his head, groaning into it. He’d said the “H” word, and Dave knew that was as heavily loaded as an L bomb coming from a troll. Especially considering what he’d done next. Didn’t take a fucking genius to put that one together. Did that mean Karkat was in spades with him? He had insisted awfully strongly that he wasn’t his moirail.

Fuck. He couldn’t do black romance. No way, just. No. For one, he couldn’t hate Karkat. He couldn’t even dislike Karkat, not even back when the guy had been nothing but a shouty annoyance. Even after being told time and time again that troll hatemance wasn’t like, hate-hate, he still didn’t think he could manage it. Every time he thought about Karkat his chest flooded with a warmth that was very, especially not at all black. Red, maybe, but hell. That just brought him back to the whole s-e-x thing again, and even if they were just kids now, thirteen turned into sixteen real quick, and then what would be expected of him? No fucking way he could lead Karkat on for three years just to break his heart.

Christ. Relationships were hard. He might or might not even have one, and it already had him stumped.  
He wasn’t going to be able to figure it out by himself, he realized. Oh, god damn it.

 

> \-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \--
> 
> TG: hey rose  
>  TG: if youre still awake  
>  TG: can i like  
>  TG: volunteer to spread myself out on your velvet chaise while you unfuck my mind  
>  TG: patient confidentiality style where you never speak of it to anyone else ever like  
>  TG: including me tomorrow?  
>  TT: I’ll have the decorative throw pillows in place by the time you get to my office.  
>  TT: In this context, my office is the fourth floor library. There’s a chaise there that I think you’ll find quite suitable.  
> 

 

\---

 

True to her word, Rose had procured a couple of hand-knitted pillows to set out on a chaise that was notably not velvet, but was still acceptably plush. She sat thoughtfully across from him on a far less comfortable looking wooden chair, an ankle crossed over one knee, and a clipboard in hand.

“I really love your commitment to the joke,” Dave said, sprawled out on his back with his knees up.  
“I assure you, this is no joke,” Rose said, “I am incredibly concerned about your mental health and aim only to aid as much as I can in your recovery.”  
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” said Dave. “I’m an altruistic man, Rose. Dishin’ out life’s dreams like hot soup at a homeless shelter. The big Rose hass the clipboard. We’re gonna get fuckin’ analytical in here. Probe me good right in the feel hole. Alright, let’s do this.”  
“Whenever you’re ready,” Rose said, smiling patiently.

“I guess it all started when my mother abandoned me because she was a baby on a meteor,” Dave said wistfully. “I was never the same after that. Cold, jaded, empty. Longing eternally for the soft touch of a woman.”  
“I see,” said Rose, tapping her pen against her bottom lip.  
Dave took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. “Alright, so the thing is.”  
He paused, and Rose waited patiently, tapping her heel idly against the leg of her chair.  
When he didn’t continue, she prompted softly, “Go on.”  
“So,” Dave said, looking away from her to gaze uncomfortably at the ceiling.

Everything here was so weird and metallic. Pipes weaving everywhere, and loose wires dangling down. Why couldn’t they just have ceiling panels like a normal, not creepy lab? It had to be full spooky, with all those horror movie implications that anything could be living up in there and they’d never know. Not until the moment that it jumped down to get them.

“So,” Dave said again.

Like, seriously? Who had designed this place? Half this shit didn’t look like it even did anything. And there were so many floors that even Vriska hadn’t found the bottom yet in all her exploration. Which was fucking wild, it wasn’t _that_ big of a meteor. This was some House of Leaves type noise.

“So,” said Rose.  
“Ssssssssooooo,” Dave said, dragging the sound out in a sharp hiss. He took another deep breath, and again, let it out. “So I guess… So the thing… So…”

Rose sat the clipboard down and stood. She moved instead to sit down on the end of the chaise, glancing down at him, her expression of amusement dissipating into an uncomfortable concern.

“Does it make it easier for you if we don’t maintain the masquerade?” she said, the corners of her dark painted lips pulling into a sad sort of smile.  
“Not really, no,” Dave said with a breathy laugh. “Get outta here, take your silly notes, I just gotta…”  
Dave ran both hands through his hair, and let out another even longer, even more exasperated sigh.  
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he said. “I tried to set this all up to be funny so we could all laugh at it and it’d be easier, but I guess that doesn’t work if I can’t choke out the punchline.”  
“Well…” Rose glanced idly at her nails. Kanaya had painted them for her and lined them with thin green tips. “I do appreciate that you’re trying, at least. It’s better than I’ve been doing.”  
“Oh, uh.” Dave shifted to sit up, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with each passing second. “Yeah, no, this uh. This isn’t about a serious thing, it’s about a dumb thing, I’m still not. I mean. You know.”  
“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”  
“Yeah.” Another long, deep breath, this time Dave let it out in a frustrated, “Aaauuuuuughhhhhh. Maybe we should’ve just done this over pesterchum, but I sort of wanted, you know, to get… Just a chance to sit and talk with you for reals. We don’t really do that much, and it kinda sucks.”

Rose gave a long hum in agreement, but didn’t say anything.  
“So,” said Dave. “So. Sooooo. There’s this whole thing going on with me and Karkat right now.”  
It was like a dam had been broken. Rose started giggling, pressing both hands over her face. “Oh, is that what this is about?”  
“ _Yes_ ,” said Dave. “Shut up, don’t laugh at me. I’m sensitive.”  
Rose gathered herself, wiping at her eye as if she were wiping away a tear. “Well, I’m listening. Tell me about this predicament between Karkat and yourself.”  
“Laugh it fuckin’ up,” said Dave. “Laugh until you fuckin’ shit yourself, make my day.”  
“I’ve captchalogued a change of clothes for just such an occurrence,” Rose said gleefully. “Go on.”

“So, I. I don’t know,” said Dave. “I dunno, Rose. I guess it’s that, I just… I don’t know what an in-person friendship’s supposed to feel like.”  
“Friendship isn’t an emotion, fucknuts,” said Rose.  
“Shut your fat fucking face and let me just get this out,” said Dave. “This is for real. And I know exactly what you’re thinking, and guess what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s a big ol’ gay thing. Ha ha ha, joke’s on me, the big twist is that if you use the secret decoder ring found inside your honey nut cheerios, they were all buttholes all along, that I wanted to put my dick in. I’m howling with laughter, do you hear my guffaws?”  
Rose was still smiling, but she shook her head. “I’m not saying anything.”  
“The thing is, I don’t even know, Rose,” Dave groaned. “How do feelings work? I sorta wanna touch him all the time, and I sorta wanna never, ever do that? And part of me’s like, you know what? Maybe I will be gay just to spite the fuckin’ world that doesn’t want me to be, they’re dead and shit anyway. But I don’t even know if that’s what I am, I just fuckin’, I don’t know. How do you even tell?”

“Well, for me,” said Rose, “it was the sexual attraction towards women.”  
“I- what?” Dave’s jaw actually dropped.  
“Careful, or you’re going to start drooling,” said Rose.  
“Wait, back the fuck up,” said Dave. “ _What_?”  
“You inquired of me how one is supposed to discern feelings of homosexual desire,” Rose said patiently, “and I clarified that in my own experiences, they surfaced as very obvious lustful desires for people of my same sex.”  
“Holy shit!” said Dave. “Is everyone on this meteor gay!?”  
“Not necessarily gay,” said Rose. “Many of us experience attraction to both sexes. Sexuality is a spectrum, dear brother, not two simplistically defined points.”

“Rose, I grew up on the internet, I know about LGBTQueefs,” said Dave. “I just, like. I don’t know. I’m really not big on The D but like, I’m not exactly building vagina shrines either, you know? I dunno, to me it always felt like some big in-joke that we were all in on, pretending like any of that stuff is actually appealing but now I’m realizing that maybe that’s not true? Or I guess I just figured that when I got older the Sex Thing would suddenly start making sense. But it never really did and now here we are, tits deep in puberty and like… I have _no idea_ how to tell what’s normal and what’s not, and the only people around to compare experiences with are you- haha, no- and a bunch of aliens.”

This time, it was Rose’s turn to be genuinely taken aback.  
“Are you sure this isn’t another no homo?” she asked.  
“ _Yes_ homo,” said Dave. “Yeah, homo. Incredibly homo. Super real goddamn homo, I wanna kiss a boy on the mouth every day for the rest of my life. But I don’t want to suck his alien dick, is that just like, me being horrifically repressed and homophobic? Am I fucked up? Am I being an asshole?”  
“Have you considered that you may be asexual?” Rose offered.  
“Have I what now?” said Dave.  
“If you don’t experience sexual attraction,” Rose said slowly, “it could mean that you’re asexual. It doesn’t _necessarily_ mean that, but it could.”  
“Like, what, like a sponge?” said Dave.  
“Not like a sponge, Dave,” said Rose. “Like a person who doesn’t experience sexual attraction. That’s it. That’s all it means.”  
“I, wow,” said Dave. “Is that allowed? Cuz I do still totally want to kiss him, I’m not like, not into people at all, just not…”  
“Aromanticism is entirely separate from asexuality,” said Rose. “It’s perfectly… ‘allowed.’”

“Well, alright,” said Dave. “That’s a hell of a mystery no one thought was a mystery, but damn if it didn’t just get solved.”  
“Now,” said Rose, “on to your flagrant narcissism, which surfaces most often in the form of quoting either yourself or your own work, often to the degree of paraphrasing entire scenes.”  
“Yeah, that’s just cuz I’m hilarious,” said Dave. “Anyway.”

Dave pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing them contemplatively.  
“Okay, though,” he said. “That’s only half the problem. The other thing is, I don’t fuckin’ understand quadrants. But I guess you can’t really help me with that.”  
“Yes,” said Rose, “I’m afraid your beau is the expert there. Though, you could always try talking to Kanaya. She has been quite an enlightening source of such things from my perspective.”  
“Motherfuck,” said Dave. “I’m so mad that Karkat was right.”  
“About?” asked Rose.  
“You and Kanaya,” said Dave. “Fuck, we’re gonna meet up with Jade and John only to find out she’s gay married to a consort and he’s been boning Davesprite for three years, aren’t we?”  
“Anything’s possible,” said Rose.  
“God damn.”


	17. XVI: Ruminate

Karkat was exhausted, but of course he couldn’t sleep. Not with all these agonizing doubts running through his head and twisting viciously in his stomach. He knew Dave wasn’t ready to talk about it and he wasn’t going to force it on him, but the radio silence had him dissecting every word Dave had ever said to try and parse out some deeper meaning from them.

How was this the same Dave who had, not so very long ago, kissed him just to prove his unyielding human heterosexuality? What the fuck did it mean that he’d gone for the whole of his six sweeps or thirteen years of life vehemently denying an attraction to males, only to so suddenly change his tune in the heat of the moment?

…It meant that he wasn’t going to stand by it, obviously. Was there really even room for doubt? Not that Karkat had been sending clear signals about what he wanted, either. Fuck, he didn’t _know_ what he wanted, anymore. He felt like he didn’t know anything at all about anything. Not about himself, not about humans, most certainly not about Dave. It was probably better for the both of them if he let this thing fade away into something they’d done once, purely on impulse.

But he didn’t want to let go. He wanted to hold on to the feeling of Dave’s lips pressed against his. Of his weight in his arms, the impossible softness of his hand on his cheek and the contrasting callouses on his fingers. The way the crease in Dave’s brows had softened as he leaned up toward him, and the way he imagined his eyes looked behind those shades.

Karkat’s forehead banged down onto his keyboard, sending a scattering of nonsense text cascading over his screen. Dave had kissed him so affectionately, and then what had he done in return? Shouted at him like a lunatic and spouted black solicitations before jamming his stupid mouth back against his. Who did that? Who vacillated from pale to red to black in a single sitting like that?

He sat back up and rubbed tiredly at his eyes, staring blearily at the blocks of text he’d been worrying over for hours. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been worrying over it for perigees, trying to craft it into the perfect delivery. All the things he’d wanted to say to Dave, and been unable to. A confession of sorts, not of red feelings or black, but of everything he’d felt for him and left unvoiced.

He’d never meant to actually send it. He’d never thought he’d actually get the chance. But what else could he do now except be completely honest? He’d already seen Dave at his lowest, it was only fair that he give Dave a window to see him the same way. Laid out in shambles, at the mercy of his devastating emotions. Then if Dave thought better of it, as he surely would the moment he was thinking straight, then at least it could end with everything off his chest.

Karkat backspaced over his keyboard mash, glanced the document up and down one more time, and hit save. This was as close as he could get to the full and honest truth without being so disgustingly sappy it would most definitely drive Dave away.

He closed the document and then let his cursor linger over the file, while he built up the courage to drag it over to Dave’s chat window.

Only for another window to pop up in front of it, flashing urgently.

 

> FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 1 HOUR FROM NOW responded to memo.
> 
> FCG: WHAT THE SANDPAPERY SIDEWAYS FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?  
>  CCG: OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.  
>  CCG: I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS.  
>  FCG: NO, YOU STOP. YOU STOP RIGHT THIS BULGE BLISTERING INSTANT AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE DOING.  
>  CCG: THANKS, BUT DON’T YOU THINK I’VE *BEEN* DOING THAT?  
>  FCG: OBVIOUSLY, YOU HAVEN’T BEEN THINKING AT ALL IF YOU THINK HE’S GOING TO OPEN YOUR NEEDY, DISGUSTING DRIVEL AND FEEL ANYTHING FOR YOU EXCEPT REVULSION.  
>  FCG: SO WHAT, HE KISSED YOU ONCE. THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE WANTS YOU IN HIS QUADRANTS.  
>  FCG: HE DOESN’T, BY THE WAY.  
>  FCG: YOU HEARD WHAT HE SAID. YOU’RE HIS “BRO.” HIS “FRIEND.” HE’S EXTENDED HIS PARAMETERS FOR WHAT THAT ALLOWS, BUT HE’S NOT GOING TO DEVOTE HIMSELF TO YOU AND YOUR SIMPERING, GREEDY HOOFBEAST MANURE.  
>  FCG: AND EVEN IF HE DOES, SO WHAT? HE AGREES TO BE YOUR MATESPRIT OR YOUR KISMESIS. WHAT THEN?  
>  FCG: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT’S NOT ENOUGH.  
>  FCG: YOU ALREADY GET JEALOUS EVERY TIME YOU SEE HIM TALKING TO ROSE.  
>  FCG: EVENTUALLY THIS METEOR IS GOING TO LAND AND HE’S GOING TO BE WITH JOHN.  
>  FCG: WHAT WERE YOU PLANNING TO DO THEN, DIPSHIT?  
>  CCG: FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I’M NOT SO CLINGY I WOULDN’T ALLOW MY MATESPRIT TO BE WITH HIS MOIRAIL.  
>  FCG: AREN’T YOU?  
>  FCG: LET’S THINK BACK HERE.  
>  FCG: WHEN SOLLUX STARTED SPENDING MORE TIME WITH ARADIA THAN WITH YOU, WHAT DID YOU DO?  
>  FCG: ANY TIME KANAYA STARTED TALKING ABOUT VRISKA, HOW DID YOU FEEL?  
>  FCG: WHEN TEREZI SHOWED THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF INTEREST IN DAVE, HOW DID YOU TAKE THAT?  
>  FCG: LIKE A SCALDING HOT IRON SHOVED RIGHT UP YOUR NOOK, AM I RIGHT?  
>  FCG: YOU’RE ALREADY JEALOUS OF JOHN. YOU’VE BEEN JEALOUS OF HIM SINCE BEFORE YOU AND DAVE WERE EVEN FRIENDS.  
>  FCG: WHAT’S YOUR BEST CASE SCENARIO HERE? DAVE LETS YOU VACILLATE ALL OVER HIM BECAUSE HE DOESN’T KNOW ANY BETTER, LETS YOU PLAY TEMPORARY MOIRAIL AND KEEP HIM ALL TO YOURSELF LIKE A POSSESSION.  
>  FCG: YOU KNOW YOU’RE NOT GOING TO STOP FEELING PALE FOR HIM ONCE JOHN’S AROUND.  
>  FCG: WE’RE A FUCKING MESS.  
>  FCG: WE’RE NEVER GOING TO BE NORMAL. WE’RE A FUCKING MUTANT.  
>  FCG: MUTANT BLOOD, MUTANT EMOTIONS, IF YOU REALLY CARE ABOUT DAVE AS MUCH AS YOU CLAIM YOU DO, YOU’LL LEAVE HIM ALONE. SUPPORT HIM AS THE FRIEND HE NEEDS BUT LEAVE OUR FUCKED UP QUADRANT BUSINESS OUT OF IT.  
>  CCG: SHUT!!! UP!!!  
>  CCG: YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT? I *KNOW* IT’S FUCKED UP.  
>  CCG: BUT WHAT IF…  
>  CCG: WHAT IF HE FEELS THE SAME WAY?  
>  CCG: WHAT IF THIS IS WHAT IT’S LIKE FOR HUMANS?  
>  FCG: YOU BETTER HOPE THAT HE DOESN’T.  
>  FCG: THAT’S THE REAL KICKER, ISN’T IT?  
>  FCG: EVEN IF HE FALLS FOR YOU IN HIS NON-QUADRANT, HUMAN WAY.  
>  FCG: IF HE CARES ABOUT YOU HALF AS MUCH AS YOU DO FOR HIM…  
>  FCG: IT’S GOING TO CRUSH HIM WHEN YOU DIE.  
>  CCG: …  
>  FCG: ELIPSE ALL YOU WANT. YOU CAN’T DENY IT. THERE’S A BATTLE WAITING FOR US AT THE END OF THIS JOURNEY, AND WE’RE NOT LIVING THROUGH IT.  
>  FCG: THE WORST THING DAVE COULD DO IS LOVE YOU AND LOSE YOU.  
>  FCG: HE DOESN’T NEED THAT ON HIS THINKPAN.  
>  FCG: SO BACK THE FUCK OFF. THROW THAT DOCUMENT AWAY AND EMPTY THE BIN. IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW WE FEEL. THE CLOSER YOU LET HIM GET TO YOU, THE MORE YOU LET HIM NEED YOU, THE MORE YOU’LL HURT HIM IN THE END.  
>  FCG: DO THE SELFLESS THING FOR ONCE IN YOUR PATHETIC, MEANINGLESS LIFE.  
> 

 

Karkat closed the window, his anger and frustration dissipating into a frigid, heavy dread. How could he have forgotten that? How bugwinged typical of him. He’d gotten so swept up in his own feelings that he’d forgotten about Dave. About the future, the _inevitable_ future.

He didn’t even hesitate in dragging the file to the trash bin instead, and held his breath until he’d emptied it, deleting the file forever. All he felt in the aftermath was cold and hollow, like he really had taken all those feelings and erased them. If only it could be that easy. If only he could just _stop_ feeling, because it was never the right thing.

He didn’t know why he was so disappointed, anyway. He should be used to the idea by now that he would never have a quadrant mate. It had been his reality all through growing up, and even though the Game had taken away the society that had barred him from it, it didn’t change who and what he was. Undesirable, and not worth it in the end even if someone stupidly looked past all his flaws.

Karkat closed his husktop and crawled back into his recouperacoon. He still couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t want to have to support his weight anymore. At least in his cocoon he could close his eyes and block out the world, hear nothing and see nothing, and pretend not to exist for a little while- an hour or so, judging by the chat log. If only he could just fade away, dissolve into the slime and disappear without another word. That’d be so much easier than facing Dave in the morning.

 

\---

 

Dave was lying in bed and his heart was racing, but it wasn’t from panic or fear. He was thinking about Karkat and what he was going to say tomorrow. Knowing Karkat, the guy was probably going to try to take it all back and reset the status quo. Hell, knowing himself, that’s normally what he’d want to do, too. It all just felt so… complicated.

But it wasn’t, really. He liked Karkat, Karkat liked him. What could possibly be more simple and straightforward than that? It wasn’t like anything actually changed when you called a relationship something else. They’d still be Karkat and Dave, either way. Friends or lovers, red or pale or black, they were all just stupid categories.

Talking to Rose already had him exhausted by the concept of categories. All these different words Rose threw at him to try and define relationships and sexualities made it all seem so needlessly complex to him, and none of them seemed to really fit. Sexual _attraction_ aside, he couldn’t say he was a completely un-sexual person, and he didn’t feel biromantic or panromantic so much as karkat-romantic, if even that. He wasn’t sure if it was “love.” Just that it was… nice.

It was nice, and he didn’t really need to define it more than that. Especially not using human terms that Karkat wouldn’t understand anyway, and who else needed to know? As for Quadrants, well… Maybe they could do that vacillation thing. Karkat was a staunch believer in what he called “functional vacillation,” and liked to go on and on about it at length if given half an opportunity. They could just be matesprits _and_ moirails, and- fuck. Maybe kismeses too if Karkat needed to hate him sometimes. He couldn’t return it, but he could pretend, and it wasn’t like he never got annoyed with him so maybe that wouldn’t even be that hard.

He didn’t really care what Karkat called it as long as he got to be close to him. Dave sighed and pulled his pillow to his chest, imagining it was a warm grey torso. He wondered what it would feel like to get to hold Karkat. Bony, probably. That was the overall impression he got from all his physical contact with trolls in general. They were all hard and sharp in unexpected places, and hugging Karkat and being held to his chest had only reinforced his idea that they were slightly more insectoid than their humanoid shape suggested.

He hugged his pillow tighter and buried his face in it, imagining now that he was nuzzling his cheek into the troll’s bristly hair. He’d never felt… quite like this before. He guessed it was true what Karkat had said, how it was different for different people. This was nothing like anything he’d felt for Jade, or anything he’d felt for John for that matter. And nothing at all like the brief thing he’d had for Terezi.  It was hard to look at that group of people and call what he had for them the same thing. Crushes, or whatever. More stupid categories.

But then, Karkat had understood him better than any of them almost from the outset. And because of that, it was so much harder to hold a face around him. Like he’d already lifted up the mask to peek at what was underneath- so what use was there in hiding it? Not everything, of course, but enough that it was disconcerting.

The way he felt for Karkat made him understand why they called it “falling.” Like he’d been caught off-guard and stumbled, and Karkat had been there to catch him. He’d never thought before that that’s what he wanted, someone to catch him. He’d always felt like he had to be the one standing strong and resolute, unflappable and unbreakable.

Karkat didn’t care that he was broken. He didn’t expect him to be anything else. And maybe Karkat was a little broken too, in complementary ways, so they could line up the edges and make something that seemed a little more whole. Shit, he was getting into poetics now. Maybe it really was love. 

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, if it was. It was nice to think about something stupidly pleasant like that, among all this mess. Falling in love, instead of just falling apart.

Maybe things could be okay after all.


	18. XVII: Rooftops

“Get up.” 

Even though he was face down on the ground, gasping for air, his heart pounding in his chest so hard he swore it might just shake the whole building, the only expression on Dave’s face was a resigned exhaustion. That last kick to the back had taken a lot more out of him than just his breath. It was always like this on Sundays. He didn’t know _why_ , only that it happened practically every week, routine as clockwork. 

“Nah,” Dave said, without moving. He couldn’t even see Bro from this angle, but he could sense him moving, could hear every shift of his shoes on the concrete, every shuffle of his clothing. Dave was always listening for things like that. Home or not, night or day, always listening, always aware.  
“Get up,” Bro repeated, as calmly as ever, pacing toward him. He nudged the back of Dave’s shirt up with the tip of his sword, as if that might encourage him to rise.  Dave gave a breathless laugh, only moving to shake his head.

“I’m a bit fuckin’ winded actually, I think I’ll… sit out this round,” Dave said, a twinge of pain in his chest making him falter mid-sentence.  
“Get the fuck up,” Bro said exasperatedly, nudging him with his shoe the way one might a questionable bit of road kill. “What do you think you’re learning lying on the ground?”  
“I’m takin’ a crash course in advanced power napping,” Dave said. “Just give me like, five minutes.”

Dave winced as he felt the pressure of Bro’s foot on the side of his head, but he didn’t do anything to try and stop him. There was no point in it, he’d just hit him all the harder for it.

“Just five minutes, Bro, just let me catch my breath,” Dave said, instantly regretting the way his voice broke into a plea. Heroes didn’t beg like pathetic cowards. When things got tough, they fought all the harder and powered through it because _that was the right thing to do_. But he felt like he could barely lift his arms, never mind his whole fucking body. “It’s no big deal, I’ll be up in just a- just a- stop- stop, stop!”

Dave’s voice cracked at just about the same time as his glasses did, and just as quickly his guise of jaded dispassion shattered.   
“Fine, fine, fuck! I’m getting up,” Dave said, raising his hands above his head. Bro’s foot stayed firmly in place, and his shades continued to creak in protest. “Bro. Bro. Bro!”  
There was a splintering sound of breaking plastic, and a sharp pain shot up the right side of his head.  
“Dude!” Dave yelped in protest. “I said I’ll fight, stop!” 

But as always, it didn’t matter what he said or did. Whatever Bro wanted to happen would happen, one way or another.

Bro grabbed him by the back of the collar and hauled him back to his feet, leaving Dave clutching at his shattered glasses to try and keep them on his nose. His hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking. He was going to have a breakdown right here in front of Bro, and then what would Bro think of him? He’d see the brittle, pathetic pussy they both knew he actually was, he’d see it and then Dave would have to admit that’s all there really was to him.

“Pick up your sword,” Bro demanded coolly.

Dave crouched down to get it, his lungs heaving with the pain of drawing breath, his eyes never leaving Bro’s shades. His own were broken beyond repair, one of the lenses shattered out and the frame bent wildly out of shape. Dave’s fingers scraped bare ground where his sword had been, and he heard it clank several feet behind him as if it had been kicked away, though there had only been the faintest flicker of movement from Bro.

“Pick up your sword, Dave,” Bro said impatiently.

Blood was dripping down Dave’s brow from a deep gash on his forehead, trickling into his eye and making it hard to see. It wasn’t that bad, probably. Facial wounds always bled more than you expected, he was just being a pansy. Dave paced several steps back and reached for it again, and this time Bro vanished completely, kicking the sword away and landing another sharp kick square in the center of his back.

Dave landed hard, his shades sliding off and skittering several feet further. He watched as they tumbled off the side of the building, reaching fruitlessly after them.  
“Pick up your sword,” Bro said firmly. “Don’t you want to be strong enough to defend yourself?”  
“No!” Dave said, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to fight anymore, please, just let me… just let me…”  
“Get up, Dave,” Bro said, dragging him back to his feet and pressing his sword into his hand.

The tip of it was swinging wildly as he fought to hold it steady. Then suddenly, he caught the flash of a reflection, a smear of darkness that didn’t belong in the searing red and orange sky. Dave looked back behind his shoulder and felt a blade pierce his chest.

It wasn’t a sword that stabbed him but a fact. A sudden, inescapable fact.

“…Karkat,” Dave said softly.

Karkat looked alarmed at having been noticed, but drifted down next to him nonetheless. Dave stared at him, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. He was still shaking, and his eyes, unguarded, were impossibly wide.  
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Karkat said. “I thought you’d want some time with your lusus.”  
“You thought I’d want…” Dave repeated, trailing off. “How long were you there? How much did you see?”  
“How would I know? It’s your dream,” Karkat said, raising a brow.

“How much did you see!?” Dave shouted at him. “How many times- have you done this before!? Sat and watched while he-!?”  
Karkat took a wary step backward, taken aback. “A… few times? I didn’t usually stay long during dreams like these back before, I’m not a complete jackass.”  
“Oh my god, you’ve known the whole time,” Dave said, running a hand through his hair. He was pacing wildly, looking everywhere but at Karkat. “The whole… the whole fucking… You sick fucking voyeur! What the fuck gives you the right!?”

“What? Dave, calm down,” Karkat tried to say, but Dave was shouting at him again before he could even finish the words.  
“Go choke on your fucking bulge!” Dave spat at him. “You’re always ranting on and on about something, it’s my fucking turn to be angry!”  
“Okay,” Karkat said, holding up his hands, “But I don’t even know what you’re talking about?”  
“I’m talking about how you can’t stay in your own fucking lane!” said Dave. “This is my personal business, and you’ve been peepin’ in my brain window, getting a few good chuckles about Dave Strider and his fucked up life. You’ve been here all this time and you don’t even… you don’t have anything else to say!?”

“I’m sorry?” Karkat offered dumbly.  
“Get the fuck out,” said Dave.  
“Dave…” Karkat stepped toward him, reached to put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Leave!” Dave said, lashing out with his sword. The blade soared right through the middle of Karkat like a hot knife through butter, leaving the image of him torn in two superimposed for a split second before it flickered and disappeared.

 

\---

 

Karkat spent the next day texting Dave and getting no response. When he’d first awoken he had rushed half way to his room before it occurred to him that that was probably the worst possible thing to do, given the context- though he was a little bit foggy on what the context even was. Dave was mad that he’d been watching him, or something? It wasn’t like he’d been doing it on purpose, um, anymore- and it hadn’t been that big of a deal before, so what was the problem?

Karkat had trudged begrudgingly back to his respiteblock and resigned himself to stewing over it, getting more and more frustrated the longer Dave went without answering him. He couldn’t even tell if Dave was reading his messages and then ignoring them, or if he hadn’t even bothered to do that. There had to be something more to this than just the watching.

Something to do with his lusus, Karkat supposed. Karkat knew very little about Dave’s “Bro” with a capital B. In fact, the most noteworthy thing about him was that Dave very obviously avoided talking about him, or grew uncomfortable when he slipped up about it. Karkat had always just assumed it was one of those Dave things, like his situation with Rose- he was torn up about losing him, but the wounds were still too fresh to address.

Was that it? Was that the whole story? There was more to it, obviously, but everything Dave had said repeated in his head over and over again with droning, nauseating reverb. Dave was completely right, he _was_ nosy, wasn’t he? Everything he’d always considered to be good leadership skills were really just him sticking himself into everyone else’s business. How had he never realized that before?

What he _wanted_ to do was investigate further- to try talking to Terezi, who knew a little more than him about the death of Dave’s lusus. But what use would that be? It’d just be his same old, manipulative, backhanded, scheming tricks and Dave would be even madder at him for snooping. The best thing to do would be to let the guy cool down, and wait for Dave to come to him.

 _If_ he ever wanted to talk to him again. The look on Dave’s face had been so hurt and disgusted, he wouldn’t be surprised if this turned into Terezi all over again, with him wordlessly phasing himself out of his life and refusing to connect on anything more than a casual, surface level. That thought stung like he’d swallowed barbed wire.

But… wouldn’t that be for the best? Wasn’t his friendship with Dave just selfishness anyway? Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if he just locked himself in his respiteblock for the rest of the journey, until his opportunity to be cannon fodder came to fruition?

Karkat’s selfless decision to do just that lasted all of a few hours, before he was out in the common room again, hoping to catch Dave coming out for food. Sure, there was plenty of food in Dave’s room if he was really set on avoiding him, but he’d never once seen Dave skip an opportunity for a hot meal. He’d be out for dinner. Right?

…Right?

The day dragged on into early evening, and then late evening, on and on to early morning, and there was still no sign that Dave had ever gotten out of bed.

That was when the fear set in, not for himself, but for Dave. What if something was really, _really_ wrong? Dave had still seemed despondent when he’d gone to bed. What if he was having another fit, or- or worse. He recalled the tone of Dave’s voice on that night before they’d gone to the rooftop. Of Dave saying that he’d wanted to die.

…Fuck! He’d done it again, gotten so caught up in his own selfish thoughts that he’d lost sight of what mattered. Karkat checked his messenger one more time, just in case, before captchaloguing the crabtop and bolting to his feet, scrambling over to the transportalizer.

The rush to Dave’s room seemed to take a sweep and a second simultaneously, but then he was reaching out for the doorknob, his hand shaking. How could he be worried about what Dave would think of him at a time like this? How could he possibly be so self-centered?

He was too much of a coward to burst in on him. So instead he shouted through the door, not knowing if Dave could even hear him.

“I understand if you hate me!” Karkat called, leaning against the door with his forehead and horns pressed against the metal. “Nobody hates me as much as I hate me. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave, I’ll never talk to you again if that’s what you want, but are you okay, Dave? Dave? Dave!!”

He paused and waited for an answer, but no answer came. Not even a courtesy ‘go fuck yourself.’ Fear spiked violently through him, finally enough to drive him to throw open the door-

It was hard to tell at first, because there were so many blankets on the bed, but he was fairly certain after a long moment of silence that Dave wasn’t actually in his room. He paced apprehensively inside just to check, prodding at the mounds of blankets before sinking down onto his bed. It smelled just like him.

Karkat pulled a blanket up over his face and hugged it to his chest, enveloping himself in Dave’s scent to try and ground himself. Dave was fine, he was probably fine. Karkat tried to tell himself he was just overreacting, or inventing excuses to force himself on him, and he knew he’d feel stupid when this was all over but he needed to see him, needed to _know_ that he was okay.

If he wasn’t here…

Karkat made his way up to the roof, no longer running even though fear still churned in his lungs with every breath. It was more likely that Dave had just gone to the ablution room, right? He was obviously making this into a much bigger deal than it actually was.

But when he opened the door, there he was, sitting on the edge of the building with his long legs dangling over the side. Dave didn’t even look back when Karkat stepped out and closed the door behind him, though Karkat saw his shoulders tense and his head sink down slightly, signaling that he’d noticed him.

“Dave,” was all Karkat said.  
“Yes, I’m still mad,” Dave said, without pause.  
“That’s not what I wanted to ask,” said Karkat. “Are you okay?”  
“…No,” said Dave.  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
“No.”  
“Can I come sit with you?”  
Dave hesitated, drawing his hands up into his lap and sinking over himself to the point where Karkat was afraid he might topple forward off the roof.  
“…Yeah, okay.”

Karkat was gripped with immediate panic at being so close to the edge himself, but he forced it down, because Dave was more important. He sat cross-legged on the ledge, a few inches between himself and Dave. Hesitantly he reached out to put a hand on Dave’s shoulder, only for Dave to flinch away.

“ _Don’t_ touch me,” Dave said firmly.

They sat in silence for several long minutes, Dave staring out at the vacant sky, Karkat staring at his knees, awash in conflicting relief to find Dave okay and frustration that he still had no idea what was actually going on.

“Why are you mad?” Karkat asked suddenly, both regretting and unable to stop the anger in his voice. “Why is this suddenly a big deal? It never bothered you when Terezi did it. Or is it just _okay_ when it’s a girl, but when it’s me you act like a cholerbear just pissed on your breakfast loaf? What difference does it make?”  
“Karkat,” Dave groaned. He didn’t sound mad anymore, just tired. “Newsflash, asshole, sometimes shit _isn’t about you_.  Get the fuck over yourself.”  
“Then what _is_ it about?” Karkat asked exasperatedly.

Dave was silent again, his hands idly wringing at his sleeves.  
“I think…” he said softly, “I’m really fucked up about some shit, Karkat, way more than I realized, and there’s a lot of shit that bothers me that I never acknowledge because I don’t like talking about it. So. I’m not going to talk about it, just drop it.”  
“That’s such beastshit,” Karkat said, shaking his head adamantly. “It’s still bothering you even when you don’t talk about it, so what’s the point in suffering alone when you don’t have to?”  
“Because I don’t know what I think, yet, okay?” Dave said, emotion rising up into his voice for the first time since Karkat had sat down. “Maybe I’ll tell you once I know.”

Karkat sighed, not the least bit satisfied with that answer, but recognizing that he had to accept it for now.  
“Okay.”


	19. XVIII: Contrast

Dave stared out into the blackened sky, struggling to hold on to his resolve. He was  _mad_ , god damn it. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about how little movement it would take, just a few inches, to be holding Karkat’s hand? But he wasn’t really mad at Karkat. Frustrated, maybe, but Karkat wasn’t the one he was angry at. Karkat wasn’t the one who had watched him through cameras, from behind corners, and through glossy, plastic eyes.

Dave shuddered and shifted his hand closer to Karkat’s, not to hold it like he wanted to, but just to brush the side of his hand with his pinkie finger. Just that slightest bit of physical contact to reassure himself that he wasn’t alone.

He was glad Karkat had come, even if he didn’t want to talk to him. He was something to focus on outside himself, now that the thinking was starting to be too much. It didn’t feel like his thoughts were going anywhere, he was just chasing himself in circles in his head. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about anything.

“Do you ever like, get tired of your own thoughts?” Dave said suddenly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over them.  
Karkat looked up at him, an expression of exaggerated disbelief breaking over his stark grey features.  
“Are you kidding?” Karkat said. “Exhausted by my own trite thinkpan is my default state of being.”  
Dave gave a dry breath of a laugh and shook his head. “God, I know what you mean. Sometimes it’s like, the thought pile doesn’t stop from getting taller. You know?”

Karkat’s eyes fell to Dave’s hand. Very cautiously, without looking up at him, he crossed his own little finger over Dave’s. A show of solidarity, what little comfort he could give even though what he really wanted to do was pull him into his arms and pap that frown off his stupid face. Dave didn’t look at him either, but he curled the tip of his finger around Karkat’s, and didn’t pull away when Karkat did the same.

“Yeah,” said Karkat. “I know.”  
He wanted to say more, but this wasn’t about him. This was about Dave, and Dave looked like he had more to say. Empress knew he’d never shut up if given half the chance. It was a struggle to hold his tongue, but Karkat didn’t want to say the wrong thing and throw him off track when it looked like he might be going somewhere just fine on his own.

“I’ve just been thinking about, like… the way you get used to things,” Dave said distantly.  
“Yeah?” Karkat said, because the pause sounded like it prompted a reply. Fuck, this thoughtful listening thing was hard. Where was the line between casual input and derailing a conversation?  
“It’s pretty fucked up when you think about it,” said Dave. “But people’ll get used to pretty much anything, huh? Imagine you’re in the middle of the shitpocalypse, literal fecal rain three times a day, people’d just figure out a way to work around it. That’s a good thing I guess, the ingenuity of man and all that, but then you get the next generation born and growing up, and shitpocalypse is all they’ve ever known. So you gotta wonder like, at what point do these kids pause while putting on their poo galoshes to think, like… Wow. It’s pretty fucked up that we’re all just okay with trudging through all this shit like it’s normal.”

“Wow, thanks for that metaphor, you’ve really enriched this conversation,” Karkat said, shooting him a grimace.  
“You’re welcome,” said Dave. “You get what I’m saying though, right?”  
Karkat paused to think about it, squeezing Dave’s finger gently in his own.  
“I guess there’s a few things in troll culture you could compare to a shitpocalypse, sure,” he said.

Dave sat up a little straighter, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.  
“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that,” said Dave. He lifted his free hand to rub at his temples, and ran his fingers idly through his hair. “God damn it. I can’t believe I’m complaining about this to  _you_  when you had to deal with like, ostracization and casual friend murder.”

Karkat’s stomach sank. That was all it took. He couldn’t open his mouth for one bugwinged sentence without making it about him and his problems.  
“For fuck’s sake, Dave, it’s not a pissing contest of who has the worst problems,” Karkat groaned. “But if it was, it wouldn’t be me. I blow everything out of perspective, it really wasn’t that bad. I had a good lusus and a good hive, and it turns out all that worrying about being culled was my own self-inflicted neurosis because I’ve survived a lot longer than, oh, most of the entire rest of my species.”

“That’s- no, no, hey,” said Dave. “That’s exactly my shit, though, that’s what I’m saying. I never thought I had a bad life. I mean. I look back at it now and I’m picking shit out that maybe wasn’t so great, haha, but. It didn’t bother me that much at the time? Not enough that I ever did more than bitch about it to my friends. So like… why am I getting worked up about it now?”

Karkat took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in his chest. He had an inkling of what Dave really needed to talk about- even if it wasn’t what he  _wanted_ to talk about. But he didn’t want Dave to lash out at him again, or to close him out entirely.

“What was he like?” Karkat asked, his voice coming out blunt and forced. “Your lusus.”  
“Lusus, heh,” Dave repeated. “God, I love your dumb alien words. Is that xenophobic?”  
“Yes,” said Karkat.  
“What about your lusus, what was it like?” said Dave. “All I know was it was some kinda big crab thing.”  
“He was a dumb sack of shit,” Karkat said fondly. “But he took care of me, and he was pretty low maintenance. That’s more than a lot of trolls can say.”  
“Yeah,” said Dave. “I guess the standards are pretty different for trolls.”

Dave’s stomach twisted thinking about it. Compared to a planet where kids were sometimes eaten by their pseudo-parents, who were literal slobbering monsters, complaining about some heavy handed strifes seemed kind of petty.

“My Bro was…” Dave started slowly. Even those three words were hard to say, especially the last one. Talking about him in the past tense seemed so… final. Sure, he’d seen the body, he was pretty solidly not alive. But it was hard to think about him as  _dead_. “I looked up to him a lot. I mean, I still do. He’s kind of everything I want… wanted, to be. Popular, strong, funny, smart, brave. The ideal role model, you know? I wanted to be just like him, I wanted to  _be_ him.”

Dave’s hand had started to shake almost immediately, but his voice was steady. “He was sort of my entire world growing up, cuz I didn’t have any friends until I started chilling with these three weirdos online. When I think about him, I think about how tall he was. Like, impossibly tall. I mean he was probably like six foot or something, a perfectly normal human height, but when you’re four years old six feet is fuckin’ enormous. Just… unreachable.”

Karkat stared at Dave’s shades, trying to imagine the look in his eyes. Even without them, though, he was getting familiar with Dave’s expressions. They weren’t so subtle as he liked to project. Everything Dave was saying sounded perfectly calm and normal, but the set of his mouth and brows were tight and anxious.

“Do you miss him?” Karkat asked, because normally that would be the right thing to say in this situation. Though with Dave… he just didn’t know.  
Dave gave a dry laugh that almost could have been mistaken for a sob.  
“Fuck yeah, I miss him,” Dave admitted. “It’s so fucking weird, even now I feel like I’m just away from home, and when I get back he’ll be there and everything’ll go back to normal.”  
Karkat moved his other hand on top of Dave’s, unwilling to pull away from the death grip on his pinkie but also unable to keep from squeezing Dave’s hand in his own, like he could channel the comfort into him through the force of his grip.  
“I still miss Alternia,” Karkat said. “I’ve told you that, right? It was fucked up, but it was familiar. Like, uh, the shitpocalypse. If those kids moved to another planet, they’d probably miss the smell just because they were so used to it.”

Dave gave another laugh, more genuine this time, and put his other hand on top of Karkat’s. The hand pile didn’t stop from getting taller.  
“Fuck, thank you for saying that,” Dave said, shaking his head. “I just don’t know how to feel anymore. I’ve got all these different emotions goin’ on all at once, and half of them are directly contradicting the other half, and it’s like… I dunno. It makes me feel like I gotta decide one way or the other and stick to it or none of them are legitimate.”

Karkat gave a low, distressed chirp. Dave looked up at him and Karkat’s eyes widened before he glanced away sheepishly.  
“That’s a cute noise,” said Dave.  
“Shut up,” Karkat snapped. He sighed. “I think… Well, let me put it this way. I had a good lusus. I cared about him a lot, and I always felt he cared about me, too. But I had plenty of friends with difficult lusii and as far as I know, they all still missed them when they died. Who wouldn’t? He was obviously important to you, so it’s okay to miss him. And it’s okay to feel… however else you feel, too. Emotions are fucking complicated. How do you think red-black vacillation occurs? Emotions don’t cancel each other out.”

“Oh god,” said Dave. “Please don’t compare my daddy issues to red-black vacillation.”  
“What? I wasn’t-“ Karkat said quickly.  
“I mean I know y’all don’t have to worry about the incest factor, but that’s pretty much the most extreme nope in the books for human folk,” Dave interrupted.  
“I’m just  _saying_ ,” Karkat said, glaring at him, “that emotional extremes aren’t always contradictions, even when it seems like they should be.”  
“Nah, I get it,” Dave said, “I’m just fucking with you.”

Karkat held his glare, eyes narrowing momentarily before his expression eased.  
“Are we done fighting, then?” he asked, apprehensively.  
“Dude, we weren’t fighting,” Dave said, squeezing his hand. “I just needed some time alone or I was gonna blast you with a lot of misdirected angst.”  
“Oh,” said Karkat, unsure of whether or not he should be relieved. “Well… I’m still going to apologize. It obviously bothered you and I feel bad about it. So. I’m sorry for spying on you.”

“It’s okay,” Dave said. “I mean, it’s pretty fucking weird that you did it before we started hanging out, I just wanna put that out there. I’m definitely uncomfortable with not knowing how much shit you know about me. Dreams are like… personal and private. I’m still sorting out my shit, so I really don’t want you or anyone else in there judging me for it. That’s all.”  
“I don’t do it anymore,” Karkat assured him. “Now I always find you first thing if I enter your dreams. The only reason I stayed back this time was because I assumed you’d want the time.”

“Yeah, you said that,” said Dave. “Fuck, I’m sorry for yelling at you. When you showed up and shrugged off me getting my head stepped on like it was Saturday morning cartoons it felt like a slap in the face cuz I know that shit’s not normal for other human kids. But you’re not human.”  
“You’re apologizing to _me_ for  _yelling_?” Karkat said incredulously. “Your harshest battle cry is like the soft mewling of an infant purrbeast. Not to mention that I’m-“  
Karkat pulled a hand from the pile and gestured to his entire self.

Dave laughed and shrugged. “Well I’m still sorry. You didn’t deserve to take the heat.”  
“It’s  _fine_ , Dave,” Karkat insisted. “In fact, I’m furious you didn’t yell at me  _more_. You’re obviously holding a lot of anger in and it’s not good for you. Do what I do, if anything bothers you, yell about it immediately!”  
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Dave said, grinning. “Alright, I’ll try.”

“And besides…” Karkat said hesitantly. “That would still be pretty rough for most lusii. It’s just rude to point out flaws in someone else’s lusus.”  
He didn’t mention that an inability to control your lusus was considered a weakness. He really didn’t think it’s what Dave needed to hear just then.  
“Huh,” said Dave. He didn’t really know what to say to that. So instead he stayed silent, just watching Karkat while Karkat watched him.

Dave scooted over closer to him, shifting his hand up onto his knee and taking Karkat’s with him. Touching, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Karkat’s solid presence was better than anything he could have said at dispelling some of the weight and tension that twisted in his gut. Not all of it, but some.

“So…” Karkat said, after a long pause. He swallowed heavily. “Are we going to talk about…”  
“What?” asked Dave.  
“ _Us_ ,” Karkat said firmly. “Yesterday.”  
“I was hoping no,” said Dave. “I’m still hoping no.”  
“Okay,” said Karkat. “But we’re…”  
He looked down at their hands, their little fingers still entangled.  
“I’m just about feelings jammed out for the day,” Dave said. “I don’t wanna talk about us, I just wanna  _be_  us, you know? I don’t care about definitions, I just wanna sit next to you, and hold your hand, and maybe, uh. Maybe kiss you a little if that’s okay.”

Karkat hesitated. He wanted to argue, because it  _did_ matter. Realistically they shouldn’t be anything at all, but apparently it was a little  _late_ for that. But. What they  _were_ still mattered, because he was a troll and that was the way things worked.

Dave would have to understand that. Eventually. But right now? Today?

Karkat put a hand on Dave’s cheek. This didn’t feel like one of those movie moments where couples kissed. It felt platonic, or pale if anything. But looking at Dave’s thin lips still made him feel like…

He wanted it, wanted  _this_. If it were possible to put quadrants aside, he’d do it for Dave. Just for now.

Dave leaned in slightly and puckered his lips. Karkat couldn’t tell if he was serious about it, but it looked so fucking ridiculous he wanted to smack him. He didn’t, though. He kissed him instead. He pressed his lips to Dave’s, and they were so fucking soft. This was the first time he’d gotten the chance to really appreciate them.

It was only a short kiss, less than a second, but any more than that and Karkat thought he might explode from the intensity of it. Dave was grinning when he pulled away, grinning and blushing. The pink that stained his cheeks reminded Karkat again that they were the same. Were his cheeks stained the same way? Less vividly of course, through the grey of his skin. And certainly less beautiful.

He couldn’t imagine another color ever matching the perfection of the red in Dave’s lips.


	20. XIX: Altearthia Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll try not to go 2 months without updating again."  
> -A fool, 8 months ago.
> 
> Anyway.

There was an island sprawled out below them, an expanse of environmental contradictions surrounded on all sides by an endless stretch of ocean. It didn’t look like a real place at all, even after all the work they’d put into it; more like a cartoonish video game map with your token desert, jungle, snow, and lava levels all tucked up against each other to save space.

But that was fine. It didn’t have to be real. Hell, didn’t Karkat keep saying that that was the whole point?

“I don’t know,” Dave said, as they hung weightlessly in the air above. “I still think we should’ve gone with the dong layout. Lush forest at the base, a long peninsula, and finally we scatter our ice zone over glacial islands spurting from the tip. It’d be great, cuz you couldn’t tell unless you were up here like this. Nobody but us would know.”  
“There isn’t anybody but us  _to_ know,” Karkat said, giving him a disdainful look.  
“Yeah, but still,” said Dave. “There’s always a way to fit in more dicks, if you’re creative.”

Karkat just groaned and tugged at Dave’s sleeve.  
“Okay,” he said, “we’ve verified that it looks vaguely like an island from above, and that it remains stable for the most part even when you’re not focusing on keeping it together. Now let’s go  _do_ something with it. Explore a tower, or something. Why the fuck do we need so many towers and skyscrapers anyway?”  
“You know why,” said Dave, grinning. He flinched away from a light shove, but let Karkat tug him back down to the surface of the island anyway.

They landed among a settlement of one and two story buildings that were Dave’s closest approximation of a moderate-sized town’s shopping district. 

“…What am I looking at?” asked Karkat.  
“Okay,” said Dave, sounding mildly bored in that way he always did when he was excited about something but trying to look like he wasn’t. “We’re just about in the middle of town here, so you can get a real great view. Right now we’re at the intersection of Starbucks Street and Walmart Boulevard. Head that way, you’ve got McDonald’s Avenue, Dairy Queen Lane, and Burger King Crossing. No Wendys, because she doesn’t play nice with the others. Other direction, you’ve got the wholefoods store that pretends it’s not also Walmart, and then the less branded stuff like Flower Shop Grove and Tattoo Parlor Alley.”  
“Okay,” said Karkat, staring down at a line of identical buildings sporting green signs. “Is this the normal layout for human towns, or?”

“Oh no,” said Dave. “They usually space ‘em out so you got a starbucks every few blocks and such. Which is great when you’re a real town, but for Fakesville this is hells of more organized.”  
“Oh,” said Karkat. “Why didn’t you just make one of each building to save space?”  
“Clearly you don’t understand capitalism,” Dave said, reaching to ruffle Karkat’s hair. Karkat glared at him, but the venom had been slowly draining from his glares at Dave over time and now they were but a mere shadow of their former self.

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Karkat, patting his hair back into place, which only ruffled it up more. “What the fuck  _is_  a ‘Star Bucks?’ Human naming conventions are fucking ridiculous, why would you name a building something that tells me nothing about what it is?”  
“Trolls didn’t have brands?” asked Dave dubiously.  
“Of course trolls had brands,” Karkat grumbled. “They’re just  _slightly_ more identifiable than a ‘Wall Mart,’ unless they happen to sell walls in that market, in which case, what the fuck?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Dave said. “We had special schoolfeeding to teach us all the brands, with catchy jingles and shit. Trust me, you throw any first-world earth kid in here, all you gotta do is change the language on the signs and they’d feel right at home.”  
“That’s… convenient,” said Karkat. “And a little unsettling for reasons I can’t quite place.”  
“Yeah,” said Dave, grinning. “Anyway, lemme teach you how humans do coffee.”

Without even thinking about it, Dave reached for Karkat’s hand to pull him inside. He didn’t even notice he’d done it until the bell had chimed and they were in the building, being greeted by the ambient music and the smell of coffee beans. Karkat on the other hand had stopped thinking about anything else the instant Dave’s skin had touched his, and had to focus very hard to look around the building instead of at Dave.

Dave noticed Karkat’s discomfort before the cause. He hesitated for a moment, gave Karkat’s hand a gentle squeeze, and then let it slip away without comment. 

“Alright,” Dave said, stepping up to the counter like he was about to order. The building was a little bit… eerie, actually, without all the people in it. It’d make a good shot for a movie, he thought. Pan over the wood interior, the inset lights, the empty tables and lounge chairs and linger on the dessert display at the unstaffed counter.

“So,” he continued. “Everybody gets coffee at Starbucks, this is a fact of life. But for our purposes there’s really only two kinds of people at Starbucks. The overworked, underpaid, jaded barista, and the lone artist tucked into the corner at a laptop, probably at their ‘usual’ table. Usually a writer, but not always, and sometimes they’re just a college student working on a paper. The other customers are just white noise, un-people, completely irrelevant. Anyway. I’m obviously the artist because I’m a gifted boy, which makes you the barista.”

Dave put a hand between Karkat’s shoulder blades to guide him back behind the counter, and this time he was likewise hyper-aware of the warmth beneath his palm. Shit, this was weird. This was definitely different. He’d only  _just_ gotten used to 'touching Karkat' being a casual thing, and now suddenly, it wasn’t a casual thing anymore. 

He felt like his hand was suction-cupped to Karkat’s shirt by his sweaty palm, and that when he pulled it off it would pop just like one and the sound would echo in the empty building. The worry was doubled by the fact that, lucid or not, this was still technically a dream and his preoccupied thought might just manifest if he wasn’t careful.

“I think I can manage ‘jaded,’” Karkat said dryly, in a rousing imitation of casualty. Really, he was trying not to breathe too quickly or too deeply, but he couldn’t do anything about his pump biscuit kicking into overdrive. He didn’t even question the sudden shift from guided tour into casting roles.   
“Yeah, dude,” Dave said, “you were basically born for this. All you gotta do is wear this apron and hate everything.”

Karkat’s lip slipped up to flash a disapproving fang, but he took the apron down from the hook and pulled it over his head. It snagged on a horn almost immediately and Dave was finally given an excuse to move his hand and fix it. He also tied the apron for him while he was at it, valiantly resisting the impulsive urge to lean over a little further and press his face into the troll’s messy hair, just to see what it would feel like.

“I don’t need to know anything about the process of making coffee or what a,” Karkat squinted at the chart on the wall, “ _venti_ is?”  
“Nope, doesn’t matter,” said Dave. He straightened up and moved to lean against the counter just to put some distance between them. “Listen. The coffee is like, the least important part of starbucks. You don’t go to starbucks for coffee.”  
“You don’t go to the coffee shop for coffee,” Karkat repeated dubiously.  
“Nah, bro,” said Dave. “It’s about the  _atmosphere_. It’s 10 pm, you can hear the rumble of cars outside and feel the headlights on your back through the huge glass windows. Business has dwindled to the occasional weary student, and the barista’s checking the clock every three minutes or so, like if he wants it bad enough it’ll just jump an hour to the end of his shift. The lights are low, the music’s just a little too loud, the last dregs of your drink went cold about an hour ago. Atmosphere.”

“Okay,” said Karkat. “So what happens next.”  
“Yeah, so.” Dave paced around to the other side of the counter, leaning on it with his elbows. “I’ve got a pounding headache so I close my laptop and come up to the counter for another coffee in the fruitless hope the caffeine will soothe the eye strain better than pacing myself and taking breaks. And you say, ‘can I get a name for your order?’” 

Dave watched him expectantly, until Karkat sighed and stepped up to the register, rubbing at his eyes with both hands.  
“Can I get a name for your order?” he repeated in a long-suffering, monotonous drawl.  
“Man, you’re a natural at this,” said Dave. He cleared his throat, changing his tone to a suave, professional lilt as he stepped into character. “Sure, we’ll call it ‘Frank,’ after the frank attraction I can feel boiling beneath the pools of your eyes.”  
“Oh sweet Empress,” said Karkat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dave. “Okay, now the important thing is that you don’t write ‘f-r-a-n-k’ on the cup. You don’t write Dave either cuz you don’t know I’m Dave, I’m a charismatic stranger dripping with mystery.”  
“You’ll be dripping in half-digested grubloaf if you don’t stop worrying my acidic gastrosac with your inane beastshit,” said Karkat, rolling his eyes, but he picked up a pen and a cup at random and scribbled something on the back.”  
“Actually,” said Dave, his tone once again heavy with his intoxicatingly cool drone. “Let’s make that an order for two, pour yourself something nice.”

“I thought my shift wasn’t over for an hour,” said Karkat, mouth contorted in an attempt not to smile. Dave could see his lips practically trembling from the effort.  
“Shut up, dude, you are the worst at improv,” said Dave. “Just go with it, pour us some drinks and meet me back at my table.”  
“Fuck your improv! This goes against everything we know about my character,” said Karkat, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s here to do his assignment and get the fuck back to his hive, not to give in to some pretentious douche residue’s overcooked pickup lines. He’s been here all day watching you scratch your globes, he’s not about to get culled for skipping out on the last hour of his shift to drink fizzling bean paste he despises with a customer that’s been festering in the corner like a puss-filled blister about to burst for about fifty times longer than it takes to drink a coffee and fucking leave.”  
“Okay, champ, dial it back,” said Dave, settling into his booth and propping up his feet in the seat across from him. “Bring Davey his drink and park your tush.”  
“You’re lucky if I don’t squat over a cup and add a secret ingredient to your ‘macchiato,’” said Karkat. Dave thought he sounded entirely too gleeful over the prospect.

Eventually, though, Karkat gave in and slammed two drinks on the table, sending fizz and whipped cream sloshing over the rims of the cups and onto the table. He slumped into the booth across from Dave and folded his arms on the table with a surly look.

“So what now?” said Karkat. “We drink shitty coffee? We could do that while we're awake.”  
“I told you, man,” Dave shook his head. “The coffee doesn’t matter. Atmosphere. Ambiance. Indie pop and chairs that look like they should be comfortable but actually aren’t.”  
“Uh huh,” said Karkat. He picked up his coffee and sipped at it, for lack of anything better to do.  
“Yeah,” said Dave. “Ambient as fuck.”

God, the way Karkat tucked his lips over his teeth before taking a drink was just so… Dave ran his fingers through his hair.

“Dave,” Karkat said finally. “Is this a date?”  
“Uh, well, yeah, obviously,” Dave said, sitting up straighter. “That’s why you buy the cute barista a coffee, so he’ll drink coffee with you on, like, a date.”  
“Holy fuck,” said Karkat.  
“Yeah,” said Dave.

Neither of them could make eye contact, not even with Dave’s shades as a buffer.

“So I got a question,” said Dave. “And I think you’re, like, the person to ask cuz you’re like. Well. You’re basically the expert.”  
“What?” Karkat asked cautiously, like he didn't know it was a quadrant thing. There was no way it wasn’t a quadrant thing, and now they were going to have to address the giant stinking behemoth in the room.  
“What do you, uh…” Dave trailed off, fidgeting. “What do you actually, uh.  _Do_ on dates?”  
“Oh,” said Karkat. He was silent for a moment, and Dave could tell he was wrestling with something. But then he said, “You talk, I guess.”  
“Man,” said Dave. “See, and I’m usually good at that. I’m the talkiest piece of shit this side of nowhere. But, like… about what?”  
“About ourselves?” Karkat offered.

“Whew,” said Dave, a sound like his soul was escaping his body, and Karkat couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Or we could just drink coffee and lob banter at each other until one of us wakes up,” Karkat offered.  
“Yeah, I like that one better,” said Dave. “Can we do that, but also like… do that, and also…”

Karkat had the rim of his paper cup pressed to his bottom lip, and was watching him with an almost aggressive anticipation. Hanging on his every stupid, stuttery word.

“Also what?” he said, after nearly thirty seconds had passed and Dave had failed to deliver on his promise of an addendum. “Just fucking say it, Dave. It can’t be any stupider than anything else that’s come out of your shit-stained seedflap.”  
“I dunno, like, hold hands or something?” Dave said, his voice cracking.  
“Sure,” said Karkat, like it was no big deal.   
“Yeah, okay,” said Dave, also like it was no big deal.  
“Give it to me, then,” said Karkat.  
“I’ll give it to you good and hard, baby,” said Dave. He wiped his hand on his cape before extending it over the table toward Karkat.

Karkat reached over the table too and sat his palm over Dave’s, curling his fingers around the side of his hand and squeezing gently with his thumb resting over Dave’s fingers.  
“This is so fucking gay,” Dave said, squeezing back. Karkat sighed.  
“You are so fucking gay,” he said.  
“God,” said Dave. “I am so fucking gay.”

Dave covered his mouth to stifle a laugh while a thousand different feelings flooded through him at once. Some of them new, most of them good. A lot of them good. 

Dave picked up his cup because he didn’t know what else to say, because none of his thoughts right now were really words. He turned the cup in his hand to see what Karkat had written and was caught off-guard, staring at the last thing he’d expected and the best thing he could possibly imagine.

“That’s a dick,” Dave said.  
“Yep,” said Karkat smugly.  
“That is a fucking human penis you drew on my cup,” Dave said in an increasingly accusatory tone.  
“I learned from the best,” said Karkat.  
“I fucking love you,” said Dave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just going to leave the joke at the top and not explain the hiatus because I'm like that, but there's a few readers who are also friends that I'm not really in contact with, also because I'm like that.  
> I'm doing alright. Basically what happened was, last update I was in the middle of moving out of a bad situation into a less bad situation, and then I fell into a fugue state to recover. I have two cats now. Shit's pretty alright. Monthly or every other montly updates probably from this point, but no promises. Because I'm like that. wonk


	21. XX: Preamble

Karkat woke with a start, his bloodpusher pounding violently, faux-sopor sloshing over the lip of his 'coon as he jerked up into a sitting position, gasping. He clutched at his chest, cheeks burning, completely at a loss. The last thing Dave had said before he'd abruptly vanished from his own dream bubble rang ominously in Karkat's ears like a gunshot. 

Dave had said that he ‘loved’ him, turned as cherry red as his own blood, and then absconded abruptly before either of them could say another word.

So what did that mean? Karkat honestly wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it weren’t for Dave’s reaction. Dave ‘fucking loved’ a lot of things. High-calorie snack food, coffee, The Mayor, shitty drawings, human male genitalia, the list went on and on. Aside from The Mayor, none of those things really meant anything at all. ‘Love’ was sometimes just a word that meant ‘likes, a lot.’ Even after burying himself in romcoms, Karkat was contextually aware enough to realize that.

So then why had _Dave_ freaked out about it? Was he worried Karkat might take it the wrong way? That was it. That had to be it.  For all his claims of being withdrawn and unreadable, Dave was pretty much an open book. Karkat could usually be fairly certain of where he stood with him. Yeah, their relationship status was… awkwardly undefined right now, but whatever they were, they definitely hadn’t hit the story beat for proclaiming their ‘love.’

Fucking Dave was never going to explain himself either, was he? That bastard. That absolute leaking rectal abscess of a boy. He was just going to waltz up to him at breakfast all, ‘oh hey, Karkat,’ and pretend nothing had ever happened. He’d been _holding his hand!_

What was he supposed to say to that, anyway? ‘Thanks, I pity you,’? Too fucking accurate. He couldn’t say it back, it would be meaningless. Would Dave expect him to? If not now, then, in the future? This relationship was so doomed from the start. They were just too different, separate species from separate worlds. It was a wonder they could even be _friends_. Sure, the two of them could dress up and play ‘datemates.’ But that’s all it was. A masquerade. Two idiots pretending they could make this work.

How could Dave claim to ‘love’ him, even if he just meant that he ‘liked’ him enough to hold his hand and take him to coffee, when he was too much of a coward to even say the Q word? Right now they were nothing, _nothing_. Not unless they could give it a name, a category, sort it away into something real and solid and not this undefined mass of desperation and fecal matter. Functional vacillation was a solution for a complicated web of quadrantmates, not _this_. There was nothing functional about _this_.

If Dave had panicked because he thought he’d overreact, then guess what? He was fucking right, and also, fuck him for being right, he didn’t know a fucking thing about anything. Stupid human boys and their beastshit. Stupid, stupid!

Karkat dragged himself out of his recouperacoon and dried off as quickly as he could, furious at how badly he was craving a coffee right now. Damn Dave for probably having the same idea! If he met him at the coffee maker there was going to be a throw-down, no doubt about it.

 

\---

 

As it turned out, Dave _was_ at the coffee maker, but he wasn’t alone. Karkat’s bad mood tripled in an instant, his scowl deepening to a proper grimace. If it wouldn’t have been useless to try, he would’ve just transportalized right back out and hopped back into his coon. Nice try at getting up, Karkat, but let's try again later. Instead he was forced to resign himself to the misery that fate had laid out for him.

“Kaaaaaaaarkaaaaaaaat, how nice of you to join us,” Vriska crooned, twirling a strand of her hair around her pointer finger.

“Wonderful,” Karkat said. “A double dose of beastshit. You didn’t hear it, but I used an eight for the ‘b’ just then. Because it’s your quirk. Your quirk is the beastshit. No eight in that one, because I at least have the dignity to be sparing when unloading my massive dumps into the ears of those around me.”

“Somebody slid out on the wrong side of the slime,” Terezi said, offering him a toothy grin.

Dave was completely silent, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like nothing had happened, barely even acknowledging that Karkat was there. This was definitely a black romance, because Karkat hated him. Loathed him with every fiber of his being. He wanted to just… grab him, and just… shove him against the wall and kiss his stupid, infuriating face right off.

“As much as I’d _love_ to stick around and be your banter chew toy,” Karkat said, pushing past them, “I’m very busy doing anything but that. Excuse me while I fill a container with rancid brown sludge and find anywhere to be that’s not in your presence.”

“Word,” said Dave. The corners of Karkat’s lips twitched momentarily into a deeper frown.

“Oh no,” said Vriska. “Not tonight, boys. We have plans, tonight. Your reclusive asses are once again the last to know, but the girls will be joining us shortly for the first of what I hope will be many, many fruitful game sessions between us all.”

“Yeah, pass,” said Dave. “Thing is, I did a game session once, not a fan. Pretty much sworn off games these days. And not in the way you swear off taco bell after spending eight hours on the john, I’m talking threw away my monopoly dice done with that noise.”

“Unfortunately,” Vriska said, “Refusing to participate isn’t an option. This isn’t just any game, this is the team building exercise I’ve been telling you about for perigees. I don’t know why I put in so much work for you idiots to fail to appreciate.”

Karkat shot Terezi a look, begging her to say something. This was the usual fare for Vriska, but he was honestly disappointed in Terezi for continuing to go along with Vriska’s egomania without question. Weren’t they supposed to be moirails now? He hadn’t seen a lot of that going on, just a lot of Vriska lording around as usual and Terezi eating out of the palm of her hand.

Whatever. As if he could talk from his glass hive of a quadrant disaster.

“For real?” Dave said. “And Rose and Kanaya actually agreed to this?”

“Oh, yes,” said Vriska. “Rose in particular seemed overjoyed at the prospect once I explained to her some of the details.”

Karkat pounded the coffee machine, urging it to hurry up and spew his nasty wake-up juice so that he could abscond as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to bite. He wasn’t going to bite. Fuck Vriska.

“Care to share some of those details with the rest of the class?” said Dave. Damn it, Strider, don’t play along with her.

“If you insist,” said Vriska. “Though I don’t want to get too far into it until everyone is here. It’s similar to a flarp session- now, now, Karkat, don’t get your underclothes in a twist, let me finish. Similar to a flarp session, but a lot more…”

“Boring,” Terezi offered. “We’ve watered it down for your delicate sensibilities, but on the bright side, there’s a lot less chance of someone getting killed this way.”

Vriska elbowed her and giggled, and the two of them exchanged a look that made Karkat want to light them both on fire with his mind. Stupid troll girls and their in-jokes.

“Alright, cool,” said Dave. “Now dumb it down for the simpleton human boy.”

“Oh Strider,” Vriska said sympathetically. “If it were possible to dumb it down any further, I’d be grunting at you like a Lusus.”

Dave gave her a thumbs up.

“Anyway,” Vriska continued. “Rose informs me that you had a quite similar game on your own planet involving dungeons and dragons?”

“Oh fuck no,” said Dave. “Oh hell fuckin’ no. I ain’t going down the nerd hole now, I wanna, like, lose my virginity one day.” Terezi waggled her eyebrows at Dave, which he ignored. “C’mon, Karkat, let’s go find the mayor and do something less dumb as hell.”

Karkat opened his mouth to tell him where to shove it, but was interrupted by Terezi before he could even decide why he was mad and turning him down.

“Actually,” Terezi said, beaming at them. “The Mayor’s been my biggest supporter through all of this. You wouldn’t believe how much set-up was involved in just the first trial.”

“Aw no, what nasty shit have you conned the Mayor into doing?” Dave complained.

“Really, it was his idea,” said Terezi. “Don’t you want to support your friend, Dave? Come on, play with me. Play with all of us. We’re going to form so many bonds and teamwork-centric skillsets.”

Dave sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

Karkat thumped the side of the coffee machine a few more times, and another trickle drizzled down into his cup, effectively topping it off. Good enough. He grabbed it and moved to stomp off, but now Dave was looking at _him_ like he was supposed to decide.

“I’m not playing,” Karkat said firmly. “If you don’t want to play, don’t play.”

“I dunno,” said Dave. “I mean it sounds lame as all hell but if the Mayor’s involved I don’t wanna leave him hangin’, you know? That guy’s my main dude, a bro can’t just not even look at another bro’s project. That’s like, the anti-bro move. Disonorabro. I gotta, man, for him.”

“Well, fine then, you don’t need my permission,” Karkat snapped. “Have fun with your dumb game for girls.”

“Well, I mean…” Dave said. Karkat watched his lips work together, pursing tightly and then parting again. “You don’t wanna play with me?”

The girls were watching them with a rapt attention that Karkat was not the least bit fond of. Their smugness stank worse than his shitty, bitter coffee.

“I would literally rather sandpaper my bulge,” Karkat said. He was remembering the last time Dave had had a significant run-in with Vriska with a sense of ominous dread. Fuck this. Fuck every part of this, he wasn’t going to get looped into another Scourge scheme just because Dave didn’t have the spine to stick with a No. But could he seriously leave Dave to fend for himself knowing full-well the kind of meltdown he was setting himself up for?

No. His pride and his apprehension combined were nothing in the face of his concern for Dave.

“Fuck!” Karkat groaned, loud enough it made the surface of his coffee ripple. “Fine! Fine, we’re in. Are you so fucking happy? Please at least try to make it to the ablution room before you both piss yourselves in self-satisfaction. Dave, you need breakfast before we do anything. Not just coffee, coffee isn’t breakfast. I’ll make you something, go sit the fuck down.”

 

\---

 

Karkat glowered at Dave over a plate of grub strips and ova. Dave seemed completely oblivious, which only made him more frustrated. Dave was happily picking over his meal and rambling on and on about some nonsense, meanwhile there were so many behemoths in the room they could’ve started their own ungodly dark carnival.

The worst part was, he couldn’t even confront Dave about it. Not with the Scourge nearby, or the promise of Rose and Kanaya joining them soon, and after that they’d be trapped in this ‘game’ for who knew how long. Stupid, this was all so stupid, stupid, stupid. _He_ was stupid for even caring about some throw-away comment, and for that matter, stupid for caring about Dave at all.

“You’re not seriously mad about this game thing, are you?” Dave said, frowning at him with his cup of coffee still pressed to his lips. “We can always bail if it’s too annoying. I figure it’ll at least be entertaining to see what Rose does, she wouldn’t be down for this unless she had a plan. And, like. It’s not like we have anything better to do, you know?”

“I honestly don’t give a single crinkly lusus shed about any part of this,” Karkat said. He chomped down on his grub strips with enough ferocity to send little bits of it flying off in all directions as it crunched. “I’m not _mad_. I’m not thrilled that you’re indulging Vriska fucking Serket in anything, but if I spent any of my valuable nugspace on Vriska I’d be seething with rage every minute of every day, she’s not worth my time.”

“Oh,” Dave said, he frowned. “You sure, cuz you sound kinda mad. Not to make this gay or anything, but like, I’d hella reach right over this table and pap you if they weren’t in the room.”

Karkat felt like he was going to just… implode. Collapse in on himself and suck this whole meteor into the black hole he created in the process of every inch of his soul being compacted at once. It wasn’t fair, it just wasn’t fair. Who told Dave he could just say things like that, out of the blue? How could he possibly be so insufferable, so idiotic, so endearing?

“You keep your hands to yourself,” Karkat scoffed, turning up his nose at him.

Dave smiled at him a little. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Dave I’m serious, I’m really not in the mood for this right now,” Karkat said.

“Oh,” Dave said, seeming to deflate a little. He pushed the last of his eggs around his plate for a moment before scooping them into his mouth, chewing slowly and contemplatively. “So… you’re mad about something else, then.”

Karkat stared at him incredulously. “Are you being intentionally obtuse to get a reaction out of me, or are you really just _that_ thoughtless?”

“Just that thoughtless,” Dave said. “I’m a big dumb dumb. So it is me, then.  You’re mad at me?”

“Dave,” Karkat said exasperatedly. “We don’t have time to get into it right now. Forget about it. Don’t worry. I’m always angry, remember? That’s me, the angry one. Loud and grumpy, that’s my entire personality. Worrying about making me mad is just about the stupidest way to spend your time I can think of. So don’t. It’s fine.”

It was not fine. He watched Dave’s lips moving silently as he tried to find something to say to that, and when he failed, he pursed them tightly instead, gathered his dishes, and got up to go rinse them off.

Fucking damn it. Dave was just concerned about him. Why did he have to lash out at him like that? Sure, it _was_ his fault. But it wasn’t actually _his fault._ The real blame, as always, fell on himself. His fault for letting this go on so long without a decision. His fault for enjoying it, in a sick way, as they shifted awkwardly from quadrant to quadrant, getting a little taste of all of them along the way. His fault for being a freak.

How long until Dave realized that, and gave up on him? It couldn’t be long, now. He’d already fucked up way too many times.

 


End file.
